Shiny Things

On May 8th my husband and I celebrate our two year anniversary. It’s been a rocky two years. 

See, we have an 18 month old son. 

So if you can do elementary math at all, you might conclude we were kind of strangers when we wed. Add to this equation a (then 7 year old) daughter and you have a stressful situation. 

People kept telling me it would be hard. It had been myself and my daughter for her whole life. We had our house, our routine, our life. We had a dog and a cat. Life was easy. Or as easy as it can be for a single mom training horses and teaching riding lessons for a living. It was easy and it was hard and I was completely independent. 

That was the hardest part to let go. The independence. The having the whole bed, and making plans and all the decisions. Not having to cook. My daughter was also independent, so we blended well. 

Then I met my husband. We got along well, had a good time. I met his family and loved them. He got along well with my daughter. I knew from the start we were different. He was not as social as I was. He was more of the joined at the hip type. I loved him, but I needed more time to decide. 

Then fate stepped in. And 2 pink lines decided for me.

So we found out I was pregnant in February, and were married in May. Our wedding was beautiful. Small and intimate. We bought plain white gold bands, and our honeymoon was a night at a local bed and breakfast. It wasn’t fairytale but it was lovely. 

Once we married, the bickering started. For all our differences, we were similar in our hardheadedness. We moved twice. I quit my business. We struggled to pay the bills. Much like any young couple with 2 kids. We had to learn how to get along, and get to know each other, at the same time. 

So it’s been a rocky two years. 

Lately though, things are changing. We aren’t bickering as much. We aren’t shouting and slamming doors. 

We still disagree. And annoy one another. But a few months ago, I decided to stop. I decided to stop trying to “win”, and I decided to start choosing my battles. And when I stopped arguing, so did he. If he started arguing, I would shut my mouth, put my best neutral face on, and relax my shoulders and body language. This body language would usually diffuse him, and the potential problem would dissipate. 

I’m not saying it always works. And I’m not saying I always back down. Or that I don’t still pick at him sometimes. But I’m trying to not allow the silly things bother me. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Or at least as little of the small stuff as possible. 

Other things are changing, too. 

I am keeping up with the house better. I am listening to my kids better. I am taking a few minutes a day to groom the dogs. My laundry is at a reasonable volume. 

Then, a few weeks ago, my husband came home with flowers. Pretty little potted flowers, one for me, and one for my daughter. 

I hadn’t even hinted. 

What a feeling.

He took the trash out without asking, and helped clean out the closets.

One day he came home. And I had just cleaned the whole house. And I was tired and cranky. My resolve to be peppy and happy was weak. So I jumped on him for not noticing how hard I had worked. And I picked at him for rolling his eyes. 

Then, when I had had enough, I noticed that there was a box on my nightstand. A small brown box. Like the ones our plain gold wedding bands had come in. 

I picked it up.


 Opened it. 

And inside was the engagement ring I had never gotten. The ring we had decided was too expensive. The ring that for 2 years my husband had said I would get someday. 

Someday had come.

I know a ring is just a piece of metal with a rock set on it. 

I know a ring cannot solve problems.

I know some might think it is materialistic, and frivolous.

But it isn’t the ring itself.

It’s the promise, it’s the thought. It’s that he took the time and the money he works so hard to come by, and he went and picked out a ring.

Without me even hinting.

What a feeling.

And when I look at my left hand, and see this shiny stone, I remember that I really am a lucky girl.