“When the world around you starts a-movin’ (movin’)
And you should wonder if I still love you (love you)
If you feel the darkness comin’, risin’ inside
I’ll make a light to guide you back home.”
-Reba McEntire/Justin Timberlake

Today is the anniversary of the night my husband and I ran into each other at the 21st birthday bash of two of my good friends. Eleven years ago tonight, I saw him as I stood by a bonfire. I still remember I was wearing jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt. I had spent the day laying in the sun in my front yard and had fallen asleep – so I was a bit sunburned on top of extremely tipsy. He and I had dated in high school and I had last seen him shortly after his son was born. Yes, he and his then-wife came to my house to show off the baby boy (that part skeeves me out when I flash-back to it!).

Eleven years ago tonight, he spilled his drink in my shoe and we wandered away from the party to grab my sweatshirt and ended up in one of those desperate, booze-fueled makeout sessions against my car.

After eleven years together, nearly eight years of marriage, and two children of our own, here we are.

If I said it was easy and that time flies and that familiarity and love breeds an easy sense of who we are and how to love and what works and what doesn’t, well, I’d be lying. Hell, most of you have been reading long enough to know there are up days and there are down days, and sometimes the shift is in favor of the negative and the good days are far between.

A conversation yesterday made me realize that perhaps I am not always doing enough to preserve the integrity of my relationship with my husband. I bitch about him a lot, I channel my unhappiness in ways that aren’t exactly constructive, and that maybe I need to be doing more. I’ve been lazy in my relationship, and I have had it in my head - not always at the forefront, mind you – that because I’ve sacrificed so much for the life we have and all we’ve been through, that he owed me something, that he should be the one always expending that extra effort. All those little things – his ex-wife, his son, his son’s problems, financial issues related to the above mentioned factors – all have been pooling into this well of negativity that I have in my head. It’s kind of been festering there. I’m not entirely sure how to empty that reservoir, but I know that I have to make an effort.

I also know that it’s difficult for those outside of this marriage to know exactly how it works because I hope to hell that many of the things we have encountered, and the speed bumps we’ve hit along the way are things that you will all never have to go through. I couldn’t have ever anticipated what it would be like to deal with constant animosity directed towards me by a woman for the mere fact that her exhusband loved me and that her son was in my home every other weekend. I could not have predicted that the boy would develop severe emotional and mental “problems” (for lack of a better word) that would wreak havoc on nearly every fiber of our home. I certainly had no way of knowing the stress it would cause in my house, having to be on my guard every second that child is here because he cannot be trusted around my children. And I think I’ve made excuses because I am not entirely strong enough to deal with things – I’ve made excuses because I’m tired and I’m hurt and I’m frustrated and I’m scared. I’ve pulled away because I don’t know how to deal with these things, because I’m protecting my kids, and because the lack of control has had me reaching for control anyplace else I can find it. Maybe that hasn’t been the right thing to do. I don’t know.

What I do know is this: My husband loves me. A lot. Even when I think my ass is fat. Even when I stay up too late reading and my lamp keeps him awake. When I leave soda cans on the counter with just a sip of soda in them (instead of drinking it or dumping it). When I cook something with peppers in it even though he hates them (I’m not stopping that, by the way – I love peppers and they’re good for you: he can pick them out!).

I have a lot of great qualities that make me a kick ass person, and a kick ass friend and even a kick ass wife. But there’s a lot about me that isn’t so fantastic, and he loves me anyway. Does that mean I’m going to stop complaining about him? Nah. I mean, after all, the fact that there is pee on my bathroom floor is still going to annoy the hell out of me. There’s still the dark cloud of all the stuff we have to keep getting through, all the stuff that is still on our emotional plates, and our parental plates, if you will.

But. I’m going to do better to love him the way he loves me. We’re not perfect people. We’re never gonna be perfect people. But remember that Juno quote from a few months ago? This man thinks the sun shines out my ass. He is the cheese to my macaroni.