anniv2“I just want to have fun with you. I wanna talk about more than our to-do lists and parenting crap,” I said to you as we laid on the floor of our dining room turned play room.

We had finally gotten our toddler down for a nap that Saturday afternoon and were so exhausted that we did what came naturally once he stopped crying: just laid down right where we were. You were enduring the kind of one-sided conversation that is so frequently revisited when I want to talk about my feelings, a conversation I am not sure you knew you would be having so many times three years ago when you married me. You often try to fend me off when I invite you to join in this kind of conversation, referring to my profession, “Sorry I don’t get paid to talk about my feelings Lindsay,” which inevitably lengthens the conversation as I have to then process my annoyance over you using that excuse again.

That afternoon, like many, we tried to wrap our heads around how to do a good job of working full-time jobs, being decent parents to our little boy, and participating in a healthy relationship all at once. Most times, I talk and you listen. I worry out loud and you reassure me. I catastrophize and you bring me back to earth. We reminisce about the old days seven years ago when we met and how we used to do fun things like sleep and relax. Things are a lot different now and despite our best efforts, sometimes date night is just wishful thinking and we spend a couple days straight communicating in fragmented sentences about dishes, laundry, and schedules. Sometimes keeping up with everything seems pretty freaking hard.

I’m not a perfect wife, mother, professional, or homemaker (please stop laughing about the last one), but I keep trying to get better because of you. Because I know I’m lucky to have found you. And you make up for my imperfections–which is why we are better as a pair. Where I am impulsive, you are a level-headed decision maker. Where I get caught up in emotions and the what-if’s, you anchor me with your calm presence. Where I spend money, you save it. Where I want to stay up dancing with our wild child until way past his bedtime, you remind me that toddlers need schedules. Where I jump to conclusions, you weigh out other options. Where I reach for the take out menus, you cook. Where I stay mad, you apologize–even if it wasn’t your fault.

You’re an awesome father and husband. Sorry I like to talk about feelings so much. But, maybe in this instance, it’s okay–since I’m talking about feeling lucky to have a guy like you.

Here’s to 3 years and many more.