i do, over and over again

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I can't remember where I got this photo, but I do remember reading that it was a wedding dress and the bride crocheted it herself.  Isn't is amazing?  It steals my breath away and wish I could get married again and wear one just like it.

Which I would do a million times over if I believed in it.  I'm one who tries to live up to my wedding vows everyday, hoping they won't fad over time.  The original promises I made are graffitied all over my heart.

I married Sugar Daddy sixteen years ago.  We were young and stupid and crazy in love.  Most of all, we were blessed to find each other. I'd say it was dumb luck but I know better.

I've had my struggles in life.  I've been down and out and so poor I had to eat canned pineapple for an entire week until the pay check came.  I've seen some sadness and weathered some storms.  I have some scars.

But. Here's where I'm so very very blessed: I've never not been absolutely head over heels in love with my husband.  It's an amazing gift. I stand all amazed most days at my good fortune to have married the very person I would choose every time to be in the fox hole with, no matter the battle.

Oh sure we have our fights and disagreements.  He wishes I wasn't directionally challenged. I take issue with sweaty running clothes dropped on the floor and stinky yerba maté  cups in the sink.

We needle each other out of spite or boredom. We mutter sarcastic remarks under our breath.  We play ro-sham-bo over diaper changes and bedtime chores.  We both think the other has a poor memory.

But at the end of the day, even if I'm irritated and out of sorts with him, I want to cuddle up to my husband.  I want to smell his neck and put my hand on his cool cheek. I want to fall asleep with the comforting heft of him on my right side, listening to his deep bear breaths.

I'm crazy about Sugar Daddy. He's my Clark Kent. And there's not a thing known to man that can change that.

Lucky, lucky me.

the pecked hen

Sugar Daddy has flown the coop.

He took off to Cabo San Lucas for five days to spear fish and generally act like a caveman. In a moment of pure insanity, I encouraged him to go. I must be some kind of stupid.

So I'm going it alone.

And it's not so fun. I'm not complaining per se. I'm just informing the public so that everyone will feel sorry for me.

When my husband is home, I have a tendency to feel like I must be a director so that things get done. And I have been known to "micromanage" such chores as diaper changes and tooth brushing. But one must always wipe from front to back when changing little girls and take extra time on the molars of a sugar crazed boy. These are widely known facts.

"I feel like a pecked hen. You correct everything I do." Ben said one day.

"I believe the phrase is hen pecked my dear." I said.

"Case in point." he mumbled and went back to making up the bed so that it looked like a child had made it.

But now I'm missing my pecked hen.

I'm missing how good he is at entertaining the boy in the evening. I'm missing how he takes the trash out with ease and makes sure my Red Bull is chilled and waiting for me before I even know I want one. I'm missing how he perfectly fills out the right side of the bed and lays his hand in the small of my back as we drift off to sleep.

I vow to spend less time pecking and more time noticing the delightful minutiae of my life with Sugar Daddy.

Along with the pecked hen, we have the chagrined hound.

Finnigan has taken the arrival of the new baby pretty hard. Knowing that his chances of being my baby ever again are slim to none, he has taken to harassing everyone else non-stop for attention.

Just look at that face. You know he's saying "Just love me Mom." I guess I need to spend some one on one time with him. I'll get right on that after I feed and change the baby, unload the dishwasher, cycle the laundry, find some staples for Thom's art project, fill out some thank you cards and call to make a well baby appointment with the doctor. Ey yi yi.

There really is no rest for the wicked.

P.S. The good news is I love my flower shoes.