Life and lemons

Photo Cred: Lynn Stanger Photography

I tend to be openly candid about most facets of my life. Some say this is part of my charm while others are visibly uncomfortable sideways-walkin’ -out-the-door. React how they may, I possess this quality in spite of myself. So, much like a facial birthmark, I have a choice to try like mad to cover it up or embrace it fully as part of my full self.  I can honestly say at 31, I mostly embrace it, though some situations still have me playin’ it cool.

So. Marriage. Lets be candid about that, whatddya say?

Speaking of candid, I’ve been married twice. Uh-huh. Trashy. Actually no, not really, just foolish. I was married as a teenager. Yes, a teenager. I heard an audible crack as both my parents’ hearts broke, but I plunged ahead because along with candor I also possess a thick stubborn streak. So here I am neck deep in the real thing. The first time was just a willful girl’s mistake. Another blogpost for another day.

The REAL thing. Lordy. 7 years in with a wonderful man, a wonderful, patient long-suffering man. We’ve been through some #$@%. But any time you get two people together and pledge to live with only them, sleep beside only them and wash their underwear until the day you die (cue in voice of doom from the heavens)…well you’re bound to kick up some dirt along that road amiright? I’m sure in 7 more years I’ll look back on this and read and think, Pshh child’s play! But right now I feel like a cartoon character who’s just had an anvil dropped on their head and rolled down a hill onto a dynamite stick. Hair sticking up, pound signs on my face, eyeballs all googly. Yep that’s me. Marriage is chock full of these cartoon character seasons and some are downright rowdy! My husband and I just lived through one heckuva Nor’easter but we lived to tell about it and I’m contemplating T-shirts.

Let me paint the picture for you…that long awaited holiday break arrives, we’ve been planning and shopping and we just couldn’t wait for all that quality family time! Enter stage left, a major surgery for a beloved family member. The flu. Strep. Everyone puke in unison. So therefor could not visit said family member in the hospital during Christmas, but somehow we all made it through the holidays. Bleary eyed and hiccupping a little but we made it! We kicked off the new year with a frozen busted pipe, and our main family vehicle just up and died. Somewhere in the midst of all this chaos someone punched a door because someone said I told ya so! and someone else threw some sausage balls at someone else’s torso, but I digress. So! Post holidays we have an expensive car repair, a hefty rental fee, and no sausage balls.

But love is so grand. Truly it is. I woke up from a surgery of my own, (because in my infinite wisdom I scheduled to get my tubes tied during holiday break as well. HA! What’s one more thing, right?) and I realized I couldn’t put my socks on because it hurt too badly to bend over, and don’t even get me started on my pants. So as I laid there all vulnerable in my granny hospital gown, chin quivering and wondering how I would hide my butt if the nurse helped me, my ole guy just quietly began putting on my socks, then helped me with the rest, then warmed up the car and tenderly buckled my seatbelt.

And that’s when I realized, Love is lemons and then it’s love. And then it will be lemons again, but it will always be love. Messy, chaotic and sometimes kinda gross. It’s sacrifice and work and being vulnerable and being strong and holding each other up and letting each other fall. It’s lemons and then it’s not.

Going through a sour patch? Hang in there. Board up the windows and come out on the other side.


2 thoughts on “Life and lemons

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s