When you have been married for 3 years you start thinking and planning. What great adventure will we use to embark upon to mark this great milestone? Our first cruise, a time to relax and eat, eat, eat? A trip to Hawaii where we will climb volcanos and swim in warm waters and embrace our adventurous side? A beautiful bed and breakfast in Napa, luxury at its finest? Or possibly, the trip most fun to plan, a trip I can study and learn and explore a trip abroad! But where? Istanbul? Or maybe Meteora with time spent on some Greek Isles?
Oh the possibilities. Our love celebrated. The world at our fingertips. What a blissful time. Our bodies still young and strong and looking better than ever.
Everyone will be jealous.
Year four: a baby arrives.
Year four: a baby arrives.
One girl, two years later another and then like clockwork a third.
During the first year with a newborn the sleepless nights drag on, but the year is so full of poop and mashed bananas that the months fly by. And with so many kids packed into a small amount of time, no additional thoughts are given to the blissful milestone that seemed so emminent 6 short years ago.
Year nine: the window for planning the, now much needed retreat is here.
During the first year with a newborn the sleepless nights drag on, but the year is so full of poop and mashed bananas that the months fly by. And with so many kids packed into a small amount of time, no additional thoughts are given to the blissful milestone that seemed so emminent 6 short years ago.
Year nine: the window for planning the, now much needed retreat is here.
Love has blossomed two young people into a family. A love that so many people never experience. Love that has matured and changed with the times. Love that has not weakened since you first met.
During your ninth year, living in a home with three children, your thoughts are full. The only moments of the day that still belong to you are those just after waking or just before going to bed-- both of which occur with your head on your pillow. And in these times your thoughts slip between reality and the dreams of days gone by and you return to the beautiful thoughts of celebration.
During your ninth year, living in a home with three children, your thoughts are full. The only moments of the day that still belong to you are those just after waking or just before going to bed-- both of which occur with your head on your pillow. And in these times your thoughts slip between reality and the dreams of days gone by and you return to the beautiful thoughts of celebration.
Thoughts of luxurious pillows and wine and beer and lovely food and smells of eucalyptus. All of the dream vacations get rolled into one and you dream that when you sit up in bed today you will find yourself with a tray of gourmet food and mimosas and café next to you. There are birds singing out your window and your true love sleeping next to you. He will remain asleep long enough for you to eat the best looking parts of the breakfast that has been delivered.
The minute you sit up your day begins to overflow like sippy cups, so you begin to fight your mind and push your head deeper into the pillow. Using your nails, you claw into the surreal parts of the vision. The sun shining across glistening white linen sheets that carry the scent of honey and orange blossoms. There is a song somewhere. Then you roll over and realize there can't be linen sheets because you feel the frayed ends of your 10 year old sheets. But no! I will believe in the muddled lines of truth and focus instead on the breakfast tray. I take in every morsel of the breakfast with my eyes as I ponder how my emotions would reel were I able to eat such a meal in bed. The music grows.
The minute you sit up your day begins to overflow like sippy cups, so you begin to fight your mind and push your head deeper into the pillow. Using your nails, you claw into the surreal parts of the vision. The sun shining across glistening white linen sheets that carry the scent of honey and orange blossoms. There is a song somewhere. Then you roll over and realize there can't be linen sheets because you feel the frayed ends of your 10 year old sheets. But no! I will believe in the muddled lines of truth and focus instead on the breakfast tray. I take in every morsel of the breakfast with my eyes as I ponder how my emotions would reel were I able to eat such a meal in bed. The music grows.
Then the music is all I hear, but not music, the sound of the baby crying. Immediately my dream crumbles and where breakfast delicacies once were, I am left with the morsels of goldfish crumbs stuck to my arm. I told the kids not to eat in my bed!
Year 9.5. . . .
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