I love my wife

So, this morning my wife and I fought. No, I don't mean some lame, tame argument over who's turn it was to do the dishes or take out the trash kind of fight. Those are easy. I know better. I'm wrong. No, this was hard. This was an all out, sit in the car in the office garage alternately yelling, crying, screaming, and whispering into the phone for an hour kind of fight. It's not about our shop, which we are pretty sure we're closing, but it is. It's not about money, but it is. It's not about Topher, but it is. It's not about the fact that I'm an incurable slob who has a desk stacked with soda cans from the last week which will probably stack there until I can’t see over them and into the mirror, at which point I’ll throw a fit and throw them all out, but it is. It's one of those fights that only two individuals who love each other so much that they can't imagine life without each other can have, because if you didn't love someone that much you would brush it all off and not care.

Let's just say, it's not been a good day. But the key to my survival lies in that last sentence. “Two people who love each other so much that they can’t imagine life without each other”. So, I thought I’d try today to talk about why it is that I love my wife so much. Not a snarky cute list, but something with a little bit of actual meat behind it. I hope it helps.

Christina and I were best friends in High School. I mean BEST FRIENDS. We ate lunch together every day. I used to sit in the attendance office where she volunteered and help her enter excuse slips into the computer. She used to drive us all over town for lunches, or after school, or just to explore (I didn’t have a license). She’s the one who threw me a surprise party when I left for Australia with the Boy Scouts. She dragged me (kicking and screaming) into Square Dancing, one of my favorite activities all through college. I loved the fact that she was older, but willing to spend time with me anyway, always laughing, always on the go. I hated the fact that she was dating someone else, but nobody’s perfect. yeah...she is

Chris and I got back together years later. Jory was 8 at the time. Her marriage was falling apart (actually, in retrospect, it already had but they just didn’t know it yet), her life was in crisis, and she reached out to a friend. I found I still loved the way she smiled, even when she was angry. I loved the way she’d pack up the kids and drive to my job, half an hour away, just to say “hi”. I’d gone out with a couple of girls in college, but none of them made the sun brighter just by walking under it the way my wife did. Add to that the fact that she had the most incredible passel of kids and it was heaven!

She is wonderful with kids. I like mouthy, smart-assed teenagers who can argue about anything. She likes little ones that play cute games and cuddle and watch TV. I come in like a bull in a china shop, yelling at everyone to get things done. She talks them through it, cajoling and being nice, helping them. Almost always when one of us is upset, the other can be the voice of reason. I love the way we complement each other.

I recently got a job in Portland. She’s always dealt with bills and the house and homework and more, because I had to work. But up until recently, I’ve always been there to help, even if it was only something small. Now it’s harder, because I’m out of the house for 11-13 hours every day. I’m 80 miles away, with no easy way to get home if something comes up. And I work in a cube farm, where I can’t even chat on the phone without everyone overhearing. She not only has to handle everything, but now she has to do it on her own.

I don’t envy her.

She is the strongest woman I’ve ever met. She does handle it all. I love the fact that she’s not a Type A person who needs to have every homework assignment for every kid perfect. I love the fact that she is more focused on letting them learn at their own pace, even if it doesn’t line up with what the school is doing. I love to sit and listen when she’s had a busy day, and hear all the things that she’s done, the places she’s been, the activities she’s watched. Even when she’s worn out, she’s the Queen ... the Mom ... the Light of my Life.

So ... even when we fight ... even when we’re at our worst ... I can’t imagine surviving without her. I love her. I. Love. You.

        aka: goofdad

PS: There was good news last night ... but I'll blog about it later.  I needed this today.