So… This is 31.

Sitting here amongst the chaos of our lives eating a dinner we sort of prepared together. This dinner of salmon, potatoes and asparagus was within the calorie range we’re both trying to keep. During half the dinner prep I was running two of our children where they needed to be. He started dinner and held down the home front. I came in clutch towards the end to wrap up the cooking and be sure we were able to sit down for ten minutes and eat together.

This is 31.

Of course the kids already ate. Eating dinner as a family of 6 happens if we’re lucky, once or twice a week. In our house, the kid’s dinner typically occurs before they need to go wherever they need to be that night. Our dinner occurs in the between time of getting them there and back. The point is everyone is fed. I suppose that’s what matters. Sometimes dinner doesn’t happen for us until 7:30 or 8. It’s just life.

This is 31.

Apparently you won’t always keep the metabolism you had in High School. Turns out adults were right about that. What a bummer. In the last 16 years I’ve grown wiser and wider with this guy. My face no longer has a youthful glow, it’s now much more pale, my freckles are less noticeable and my eyes are complimented with deep circles. My hair now requires brown dye to cover the gray strands that always appear to be standing at attention.

This is 31.

The cool thing about marriage is every year I’m learning another thing that he does that annoys me, but it’s toppled by another way I’m falling deeper in love with him. My 17 year old self would have never thought him pretend farting with a 2 year old was cute, but at 31, the laugh him and my youngest share is simply precious and also disgusting. Disgusting in the most precious way.

This is 31.

We have very little time for marriage these days. It’s not on purpose and I’m not complaining. We’re just spread thin. We have a lot of little humans who not only want, but need our attention. They have emotional, spiritual and physical needs that must be met. We don’t have the money for babysitting nor do we have anyone jumping at the chance to keep four kids for free. We don’t get a lot of alone time. The guilt I feel for not being completely available to him is real.

This is 31.

We can cook a meal and take 15 minutes to sit down and eat it together. We sit down amongst all the items covering our kitchen island, barely leaving room for our plates. We say a prayer before scarfing down the plate of food. It won’t be long before all the kids are in bed and we get that hour together, kid free. It’s a brief hour. He’s a night owl and I’m an early riser. 8:30-9:30 is about all we have. My eyes start to get heavy and I’m begging for my bed by 10. It’s a good hour though. It’s probably my favorite hour. I love being a Mom, but even more I love being a wife. I love being his wife.

Falling for him at 15 was a blast. The freedom that 17 and 18 gave us was delightful, but I’m so darn grateful for 31.

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