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a decade with him

This summer we celebrated ten years of marriage. It feels more like a decade though. I tried multiple times to write out what it meant to me but it got too personal to post. I think though, it can be summed up like this: there were grand moments and glorious moments and moments that felt like our souls were getting torn apart, but in the end we had each other and so we had everything.

I don’t believe in the traditional view of soul-mates. I don’t believe there was one destined to be mine since the beginning of time.  But I do believe that in finding him I found something magical and my awe in that knowing leaves my speechless. There is something sacred in realizing that another human being has a bit of your heart tucked into their own.

If I had to do the last ten years over, I think I would repeat the first few and the last few and skip the middle parts. Kind of like most movie trilogies. But if I did have to do it all over again I know I would do it with him. Again. Because he’s the one I love.

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We got married at sunset in his grandparent’s backyard. The Colorado foothills behind us. It felt magical. I wore a wedding dress my mother helped me sew, my flower girls wore butterfly wings, and our vows were majorly mushy and over the top. Like most wedding vows I suppose.

Our little reception took place before the wedding ceremony. This despite our pastor and his wife’s dire warning that it was rather unseemly since nothing had yet occurred to celebrate. Because I guess finding your One doesn’t matter if you haven’t said a few magical words. The ceremony was at sunset, and afterwards we had chocolate cake and goblets of milk. The goblets were a surprise. My Mama’s doing. Mismatched goblets that looked perfect together. She was pinteresting before pinterest was cool.

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We bought a little Condo and moved in when we came home from our honeymoon. We spent every non working moment together, building little fires in the little fireplace of our little perfect living room. We still own that Condo, but it’s a rental now. Sometimes when life gets tough I daydream about going back and living there. It’s comfortable and safe and homey. Like sitting on your parents’ lap makes everything better when you’re little somehow our little Swallow Condo feels like a place to hide away and be protected in.

It seems so far away now. Those days. Those people seem like babies. Which makes me laugh because I know I’ll be looking back at these days in another decade thinking of what a baby I was now. I wonder if that ever stops? Or if you lay on your death bed thinking of ten years earlier and remarking on how much you’ve changed. Maybe when they say your life flashes before you that’s what they mean. All your former selves dancing across the screen of your mind, like flickering ghosts, and when the parade finally ends and you see the version of yourself that is lying there you know it’s time to move on to whatever comes after this life.

I can only hope I’m holding his hand when that moment comes.

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{{Pictures from our wedding, one my best friend’s wedding*, and a self portrait in Rome. *we obviously don’t take a lot of photographs of us when it’s not a wedding.}}

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sentimentality and zombie toddler love

Nate just took both boys to the store. I can actually hear myself think. Mostly I’m thinking how quiet it is. I don’t remember my thoughts being this boring before.

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I have only cried once while putting away the clothes that Talron has outgrown.  It was the sleeper he wore the first night with us. White with little blue whales on it. I put it in the bin next to a grey sleeper with little white elephants on it that Thane wore his first night with us. I am pathetic like that.

And as my pile of too sentimental to give away little baby clothing grows I figured out a solution: I’m totally making a patchwork quilt out of it. Not for them. I doubt they will care one whit about tiny baby clothes. Nope, that blanket is totally for me. I will be taking it with me when they haul me kicking and screaming to the nursing home.

Then I’ll spend my medicated afternoons sleeping away with it clutched in my withered hands dreaming about my big strong men when they were little bitty men. And the nurses will stop by and think how sad it is that I cling so tightly to the past. And I will probably yell at them and they will hate me because I have no intention of being a nice old lady. Just a sentimental one.

I’m going to demand to be buried with it too. Wearing my wedding dress. They can slit it up the back to make it fit me. Actually I want to be cremated but whatever. They can cremate me with it then.  In other news, I’m fairly certain I’m not sleeping enough these days.

<Insert clever bridging-thought here. Or not.>

Watching Thane and Tal’s reaction upon seeing each other in the mall playground is like watching a bromance movie featuring zombies. They gingerly approach each other with gaping smiles, hands outstretched, stumble around each other, then run off. Happy to be near each other but lumbering in their attempts at communicating it.

One of the happiest things in my life is that we were able to adopt twice from the same country. That they share that heritage with each other. But such individuals they are. Such a blending of the unique bloodline and giftings given to them by their other families and by the sprinkling of Divine Light in their souls. That all that combined to create them is the only miracles I ever imagine myself seeing. But what miracles they are.

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{{We spend a lot of time jumping off of furniture these days.}}

I so want them to be friends. It’s far more important to me than if they like us when they get older. Confession: because I think too much about these kinds of things I have two futures imagined for myself. One where my sons like me as adults, and one where they don’t. The one where they don’t involves a lot more cruises.

They started wrestling with each other this week. And by wrestling I mean Thane lays down on the floor and Talron climbs on top of him and they laugh. I tried to take a picture but the memory card was missing from the camera. I blame the dog.

We don’t have a dog.

The next day I managed to get this picture of Talron sitting on Thane’s lap. I’m planning on framing it because this is quality photography right here. I mean why hire a professional when you can get shots like this with your momtography right? Also, totally watermarking that.

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Note to self: hire a photographer for the Christmas card photos.

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love in all its incarnations

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This week marked six months since I first held in my arms the baby I’d held in my heart for so long. So many emotions go through me when I think of first meeting him. Holding him.

Finding out he was just starting to crawl. Finding out his eyes were as deep and gorgeous as they were in pictures. Love is such a mystery. How it begins, how it grows.

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It’s so odd to fall in love with someone before meeting them. It’s a different kind of love. A love that’s based on commitment and dreams, not knowing and touching.

And gradually that love changes. The butterflies and rainbows turn to oceans and mountains. Mama Bear Protective Love turns into “gosh, I really LIKE YOU”.

And our family changes. Changes to become more what he needed, wanted, was. And there are growing pains. Oh dear heavens there are growing pains. But that’s okay. We’re okay. I think.

And he is perfect.

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{{Pictures taken on the front walk on our way to a classy dinner of Taco Bell takeout at the park to celebrate. Because that’s all I could manage to put together. But you know what? Baby had fun, his big brother had fun, and Nate and I watched the “meeting him” video I put together to honor the occasion so it was perfect in its own way too.}}