The first girls-only adventure

My daughter and I went on a weekend trip without Dad this past weekend. We went with other people, of course, so it wasn’t just me and a nine month old, but it was still a major milestone. It was the first time I’d gone anywhere for a weekend without my husband in our marriage. It was the first time I’d gone anywhere farther than about half an hour with my daughter, without my husband.

It went very, very well. My daughter loved the renaissance fair we attended, and we were able to stay there for the entire day. My friends helped out with the baby, but I don’t think anyone felt burdened by her except perhaps me, which is as it should be. I have quite a few pictures of my daughter being held and kissed by people other than me, who also love her, and I think that’s a wonderful thing.

Did I mention that we had FUN at the fair?? We did. It was so wonderful. I did wish my husband could have been there too, but only because I wanted to share the wonderful with him! At the same time, though, I’m glad that he was able to have some time to just be by himself. It’s something he wants, but it’s hard to make it happen.

Now we are home, pictures are posted to Facebook, my daughter went to bed an hour earlier thanks to Daylight Savings Time ending, and I’m waiting to see my husband – he went to work before we came home. I can’t wait! :)

The problem with connection

My husband and I are very different people. I am very intellectual, I worry, I “think deep thoughts,” I have a problem sitting and doing nothing unless I am exhausted physically or emotionally. I am an introvert. My husband is content to “live and let live.” He is an extrovert, who doesn’t worry, doesn’t feel the need to do something all the time.

These differences are a big deal. Sometimes, I envy his easy-going demeanor. Other times, I wish he would see what a big deal [insert thing] is!! When I’m not captivated by the heat of the moment, I appreciate that he is strong where I am weak.

But sometimes it is a struggle, to be in this marriage, and sometimes doubts plague one or the other of us. That is when we have to decide to keep fighting for our marriage, and refuse to entertain the idea of doing otherwise. It’s frustrating because comments balloon into fights, which then ooze into reconciliation. I wish I could break that cycle, but I don’t know how – and I feel the cycle is mostly my fault. I am, after all, the emotional female in the relationship! And my husband is the opposite. (Another strength that I sometimes envy, sometimes hate, and am mostly grateful for.)

So, that’s something for me to work on. And we’ll just keep carrying on, trying to connect, rejoicing when we do, getting through when we don’t. Above all, I’ll be grateful that I have this man in my life in such an awesome way.

Young Love

Four years ago, a boy with long hair, nice arms, a camera, and a tennis racket asked me out via Facebook message. And I said yes.

That summer we fell in love, over late-night phone calls and walks in the sun. He cherished me in a way I hadn’t known existed, and I bloomed.

That fall, he told me he wanted to marry me. I freaked out, and told him we were not getting engaged until he was out of high school. But I wanted to marry him too.

Two years ago, he knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, marry me, Juliet you’ll never have to be alone

and I said yes.

We married in January, white and red dresses, tuxedos, love poured out.

They thought we were too young, but they gave in anyway.

Several months later, his parents told us that getting married then was a good thing. We’d known it all along, but we were still so blessed by their words, their approval.

Together, we started learning how hard marriage can be, loving each other through the worst parts of self, of life.

God willing, we’ve only just begun.

Happy anniversary.