So my parents have been married for like a hundred years. They've had 4 children and survived cancer, two hip surgeries, and the struggles of day to day life. They really love each other. I called my daddy a awhile ago and he told me he was taking my mom out for a dinner date that night. Ooooh how sweet! But imagine my disappointment when I called my momma later that day, and she said he had decided to play poker that night so she was just going to cook some dinner at home. Ooooh how NOT sweet. Happy Valentines Day you guys. Super romantic. I thought it was totally sad how UNromantic their evening had become, and how neither one seemed bothered in the least about it. What a bummer, right?
But then I started thinking about T.J. and I's marriage, and I realized the same thing is happening to us. Its kindof nice though, in an unexpected way. Now don't get me wrong T.J., when you read this don't think its ok to ditch me on Valentine's day to play poker. We're not to that level yet. But this whole idea of romance vs. comfort is starting to make sense to me.
Romance is first-date smelling good, eating cute, heart throbbingly exciting. But its also hard, and contrived. It merits snuggling all night with a romantic good-morning kiss. Not getting the ribs because you look like a cave man eating them. Running five miles a day so you still look good. Being whisked away for some surprise date, and having interesting and witty things to say. Its great! I really love it! But its all so planned and orchestrated and mildly unrealistic-its impossible to stay in a state like that forever!
When I look at my parents, they are totally comfortable with each other, and in a way that is most romantic of all. Being comfortable with someone requires unashamed openness. Its eating three dinners and going to McDonalds at 12 am, and a "baby you still look good to me." Its wearing your grandma moo moo and still catching your husband steal glances because he still thinks your cute. Its no more snuggling, loud snoring, and a "don't you kiss me with your morning breath you sicko." Farting under the covers, and a candle-lit bowl of cereal while watching forensic files. Being comfortable with someone just requires bold honesty about all the gross unattractive things in your life, and acceptance of somebody else's. Instead of planned moments of "romance" to embody affection, it becomes embodied in taking out the trash, cleaning the kitchen, making the bed, editing a research paper, or cutting each others toenails.
Being comfortable takes a lot more time and effort than being romantic.
I have not graduated to the "comfortable" stage with Madelyn yet. I think I'm still stuck in the romance part. Before that starts sounding really weird, let me explain. My day dreams and visions of Madelyn include bringing our sweet new born child home, beautiful and QUIET and never crying. In my dreams we are always happy and never stressed and parenthood is so easy and encouraging for me and T.J.. Madi never gets sick or cranky. I still get plenty of sleep and always look rejuvenated and patient... IN MY DREAMS, right. My vision of how life will be still feels a bit...romantic. And by that I mean very nice, but probably very unrealistic. I finished reading Babywise, and I never realized how gross babies are. My dreams never include colic or reflux, or being covered in spit up. Or the different poop-oriented shananigans that arise: changing colors, blowouts, STINK. All they wanna do is get their diapers dirty, eat, and sleep. And they are bald and needy and their necks don't even work. And babies are gloriously unashamed of it. I on the other hand, feel mildly grossed out. My excitement to meet her and to NOT be pregnant for a while is sure to be met with a real reality check when the romance wears off and the real world happens again. I hope and suppose that will be the part when comfort starts to enter the picture, and I am no longer afraid of the baby and her baby ways, and serving her becomes a gross honor of mine.
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