He understands my chaotic nature that yearns for solitude and quiet but equally, craves a life full of family (hello, four kids) and close friends and runs at about 100 miles an hour on a daily (hello, four kids . . . in five years). I understand his obsessive need for schedules, calendars, and cleanliness and his conflicting ambitions that force him to behave in the exact opposite of what he says he wants. In order words, we're both insane and he let's me do my thing and I let him do his, with, of course, the greatest of sympathies to how fucked up we really are.
"Why are you doing that then!? You did that to yourself," has kindly been replaced with "I'm sorry, babe. Tell me all about it."
Jarod and I have been madly in love with one another from the beginning but loving each other has been hard when age, experience, and maturity don't quite equal the weight of a commitment we made to one other. I like to say a big part of why Jarod and I rarely fight anymore is because we've fought about every damn thing under the sun. Go ahead, name anything.
. . .
Yep, in '08 we had a huge fight about that very thing; we were dumb and embarrassing, even to ourselves.
These days we're so on cue to what the other person is going to say, do, and/or react that nothing's really a surprise anymore. God, we sound old, married, and boring and to that I say, "yes, yes, and helllll no." We're creeping closer to 30 so yah, we're getting old and married, God, we're so damn married it's not even funny. But boring, H-to-the-no, guuurlfriend.
I'm so thankful I married my best friend. He can make me laugh like no other and is just so dang fun to be around. Sometimes I get out of the house to get away from the kids (and give my mind a break!) but him, no, if I could I would take that man with me everywhere.
I've already decided I get to die first and he should go in less than 24 hours of me. I've really grown up with him (hello, getting married at 18 0_o ) and if we're lucky, we'll get to share our great-grandchildren's birthdays together so I'm really not feeling the whole spending life-after-death without him. He once told me, a complete and utter ghostaphobic (I'mmm pretty sure I made up that word and there's actually a legit word for that but that's beside the point, so he once told me) if he dies first that he's going to haunt me and I told him, "Fine but you better not move shit around!!"
We were dead-serious (ha) when we were having that conversation but the dumb part is he actually thinks there's a chance he might go first. Pfff.
This post started off about our lives falling into place and took a sharp, left turn into Gag-Fest Way about how much I love my husband. I do but even I think I need to throw up. I'll leave how the rest of our lives feels like it's fallen into place in another post. Until then.
Love,
Kris
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