remembering

Oct 16, 2011

I started out our Anniversary date in a sour mood. I was worn out from spending an entire day cleaning with children who didn’t want to spend an entire day cleaning and then we didn’t have stellar results to show for all the hours invested in the process. Except Fisher’s room. It was spotless. Everything else? Not so much.

Then Richard was over an hour late getting home. Without calling. We missed the last temple session of the day and I was disappointed.

So.

I made a choice to be grumpy…and to not go on our date at all…and I was mean…and I yelled.

Pretty yucky behavior.

Then he picked me up off the bed in a fireman carry and tried to haul me out of the house while the children cheered him on. I finally agreed that I would go if he just let me comb my hair, brush my teeth, get out of my shorts, put something adorable on, and not have to go out shoeless.

He agreed, put me down, and let me get ready.

I was still sour…but at least I was cute.

He took me to a yummy restaurant and we shared our meal.

I decided enough already of being sour…but I couldn’t quite let it go.

So, I proposed we play a game of remembering. He had to tell one of his favorite memories from our eighteen years of marriage and then I had to tell one of mine. Back and forth until we won.

“How do we win?” he asked.

“We win when I am not grumpy-pants anymore.” I responded.

And so we played.

And it worked.

Like a charm.

His?

Driving around looking for Robert Fulghum’s country-fried steak restaurant in western Idaho.

Setting up our tent for the first time in the dark in the summer of 1997.

Watching me hold our babies.

Seeing the joy and love on my face when I held Fisher for the first time, knowing I was in immense pain and still full of rejoicing at seeing my son.

Reading to him in our early married years.

Watching me snuggle up with Blythe and read Charlotte’s Web to her when she was three years old. He said “Right then I knew my home life would be how I wanted it, full of learning and books.”

Trying to scrape some dollars together to take you to Noodles.

Watching you get your grandma ready for bed. You love her so much and it showed in how you helped her.

Driving around for hours trying to decide if you were the one I would give my first kiss to.

Watching you swim at Green River Lakes. You always have so much fun and you seem to be yourself there.

Experiencing your cooking skills after Blythe was diagnosed with her allergies. Cooking everything from scratch was a whole new thing for you.

Watching you nurse our babies with their hand in your armpit and you letting them even though it drove you crazy.

Mine?

Giving birth with you four times.

The look on your face the day Blythe was born as you gave her a blessing to breathe and cough up the meconium in her lungs.

Hearing your words the day you gave Blythe a name and a blessing at church.

Moving thirteen times with you.

Knowing that even though your hands were hurting badly, you would keep pushing on my back during Fisher’s birth.

Getting stitched up after Fisher’s birth and knowing all you cared about was my well-being.

Playing softball with you.

Driving to our first home together after our honeymoon in Yellowstone.

Watching you fish.

How much our children adore you.

Trying to get you to kiss me and your amazing willpower to not kiss me until you knew for sure I was the one. I knew you were a man of strength, integrity, and determination.

Kissing at the nursing home.

Walking in to the temple and seeing you waiting there for me.

Your adorable giggle when you think something I do is funny.

There were many more special memories shared, but they aren’t appropriate for public consumption, so this will have to do.

We left the restaurant with bellies full of fettucine and the biggest Carmello Sundae ever, big smiles on our faces, and a deeper love and commitment to one another…and I wasn’t grumpy one little bit!