After how many years of doing one particular thing can you call yourself an expert? Five years? Maybe ten? How about thirty? Well, I’ve been married for 9 years. No days off. No sabbatical to a cabin in the woods to consider my research. Nope. Just full on, every day. Married. And being that married requires an enormous amount of intense questioning and follow-up analysis from both parties involved. Questions such as, “Any chance you did the laundry?” and the even more complex, “Can you pick up toilet paper on your way home from work?”
And further analysis and/or statements such as: “I am out of clean socks.” And, “I can’t believe you forgot the toilet paper.”
It can’t always be sexy good times. Even Ice T and Coco must turn to each other on some nights and say “Do you just want to go to bed and read books?” Okay, bad example. That scenario is doubtful.
Back to toilet paper. There is nothing sexy about it. And sometimes being married just means working together to convince your toddler that lettuce isn’t coated with burning acid or perhaps tag-teaming on encouraging potty time talk with your children:
“Did you go poo? Go poo poos? No? No poo? Why no poo?”
“Time for poo? Let’s go poo. Good job on the poo!”
If you could solidify a marriage on poo alone I’d be renewing my vows every second week.
But at least I know this: I believe in marriage, in being intensely loyal, in having someone’s back and knowing that someone has mine. And in being vulnerable beyond human comprehension with one single person: my husband.
I also believe in marrying someone who can make a good smoothie. Balanced nutrition is severely underrated.
In addition, I gain perspective from the wisdom of other married folk. Like these ones below:
p.s. Go Marriage!
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