My husband and I have been married for 10 years. Very few of my friends have been married longer. Off the top of my head I can think of only 3, maybe 4. And many of the couples I know are still in that coveted newlywed stage. So I thought that some of you might be curious, “How does a couple that’s been married for 10 years celebrate their anniversary?”And, as you’d expect, I am happy to tell you.
Our 10th anniversary started out like any other day. I was roused from my sleep sometime before sunrise to the whispers, giggles, and cries of my three little alarm clocks. James stayed in bed an hour or two longer, as he always does whenever he doesn’t have to be at work. Once he had gotten up he graced me with a hug and a kiss and a “Happy Anniversary!” from behind as I stood facing the sink with my arms elbow deep in dirty dish water. I returned the greeting with a kiss over my shoulder. The morning progressed with changing diapers, getting dressed, supervising homework, putting Josie on the school bus, taking Jamie to speech, stopping at the grocery store, etc. All routine. With one exception. At one point in the late morning I had successfully gotten the kids settled happily at the table eating pancakes with cartoons playing in the background. I snuck upstairs. James followed. We locked the bedroom door… Ladies, take a note. No need to bother with expensive colognes or fancy engraved watches. Sex in the daytime is a very special gift! (*wink, wink*) There was no time for cuddling after we’d satisfyingly enjoyed each other’s company because from outside the bedroom door we could hear the distinct CLUNK, CLUNK, CLUNK of a child climbing up the stairs, dragging a heavy toy behind him. “Mama!?!” Johnny banged on the door looking for me. “Mama!?!” James sighed. I laughed.
Fast forward now to the early evening. We dropped the kids off at our friends’ house and made our way to our dinner destination, Joe’s Crab Shack. It’s become a tradition to celebrate our anniversary with seafood. We parked, and just as I was recognizing the rarity of not having to climb into the back of the minivan to unbuckle anyone out of their carseat, James ruined the moment by opening the automatic sliding door anyway. Habits are hard to break. But we didn’t have to ask for a high chair or a booster seat or a kids’ menu or a box of crayons when we walked in. We simply asked for a “table for two.” And smiled. Funny enough, when our food was delivered to the table it also came with a pair of bibs that the waiter helped us fasten around our necks.
So much for an evening free of baby gear!
Our dinner was a feast. Delicious food and great company. We talked about everything and nothing. We talked about where we think we’ll be ten years from now. James went off on a tangent about beer brewing. We discussed building bunk beds in the boys’ room so that the new baby can have the crib. I explained to James how proud I was that Jamie was doing so well with his potty training. And I told him a story from earlier in the day when I noticed Johnny making that distinct grunting face and asked him if he needed to poop. Johnny pointed to his diaper and then to the bathroom and ran to it. He didn’t have any intention of actually using the toilet; he just knew from observation that that is where kids are supposed to go when Mommy asks them if they need to poop. Yes, that’s right. We talked about poop at the dinner table. And it didn’t faze us. James gobbled down his bucket full of clams and then remarked that Josie sure would appreciate the shells to add to her collection. “You’re right,” I agreed excitedly. I took out a wet wipe and cleaned them off, wrapped three of them in a napkin, and stashed them carefully in my purse, cushioned between two diapers. “You are such a mom,” James observed. I’m pretty sure he was trying to make fun of me, but I took it as a compliment. I sure am.
After dinner we made our way to the movie theatre. James graciously let me pick the movie and I chose New Year’s Eve. It was horrible. A sad, painful attempt at simulating Love Actually. James kept looking at his watch. I couldn’t sit still the whole time- I kept shifting my weight, crossing my legs, and shaking my feet. James asked if I needed to pee. But the problem wasn’t my bladder, it was my black stockings that were providing little insulation from the theatre’s chill. My toes were freezing and I was trying to keep the blood flowing to warm them up. Serves me right for wearing my fancy dress-up heels. Should’ve gone with the sneakers. The movie ended…finally! I was sure I was about to lose a pinky toe to frostbite…and we made one last stop at the store to pick-up some computer ink before heading back to our friends’ house to get the kids.
So after a quick visit with our friends and a few trips up the stairs carrying sleeping babies and one last meeting in the bedroom, our 10th anniversary came to an end.
Now some of you might be thinking that this doesn’t sound like a very special way to celebrate a momentous milestone. No limousines or five star restaurants, no diamond studded presents or hotel suits. Nope. Instead we had a minivan and bibs, clam shells and a baby banging on the bedroom door. But here’s the thing: I can’t think of a more perfect way to spend our 10th anniversary than to bask in a glow of our own making. We love our kids and thus embrace the cost and the mess and the noise that comes with them. We have ten years of devotion invested in this life of ours. I value it above all types of fancy, expensive things. So if you want to know how to celebrate your 10th wedding anniversary, this is how. You should feast on the fruits of your own homegrown tree. There’s no sweeter satisfaction.
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