Renewing Mercies…A Little Each Day

Starting over from scratch…sorta

So I Married A Grown Up


It’s a bit late, but it’s been brewing around in my brain for a bit, I suppose we could call it a french press and pay homage to the Rondeaus and Brunettes in my lineage…or we could just call a spade a spade and I could own up to procrastination.

I’ve said before that I’m not particularly good at showering praises upon my dear, sweet, husband unless I’m sick and crabby and he’s taking very good care of me.  Which he does, though I am rarely sick.  I am even worse at remembering to take very good care of him without an attitude when he is sick, but I am the reigning champ at throwing him under the bus for… well, let’s just say I should spend some time in Proverbs being schooled in how to keep my big mouth and feisty tongue under control.

All this to say, he had a birthday this month (I’m squeaking this in, time’s a running out on September), a big one and, like most years, it was without “the big to do.”  He started spending money on my birthday really early.  (And it’s now October 5th, so procrastination wins again)…

He does like to remind me how much he spent on my birthday, and honestly, he’s not going to top last year when he bought “me” a house, but he did pretty good this year too.  It started with a new stereo with bluetooth in my car, so that I could have hands free for my phone, but he doesn’t actually like to talk to me on the bluetooth in my car because as he said yesterday it sucks dog… we’ll leave it at that.  But I love being able to listen to my music in my car from my phone apps without wiggling the little Monster radio adapter that is sooo 2006.

Also, this year we did dinner, new workout kicks, diamond hoop earrings, and a spa day.  Score for the wife!

The husband, did not get so much.  I’ve been talking a lot about love languages lately with some others, moms, husband, my mom and such, and I find that while the love language is really more about the person that you’re trying to show love to than yourself, but instinctively you try to show love the way you best receive love.  That, my friends, is unbelievably hard!  My love language is gifts, hands down, I love presents and I love giving presents and I love picking out the perfect present.  Love it, love it, love it.  Ava’s we suspect, is words of affirmation and physical touch.   Daddy kisses her on the forehead and I hear about it for an hour after he’s left for work.  At night, after dinner she just wants to sit with me and wants me to tickle her arm or her back or her legs.  Court’s is acts of service.  He always wants me to help him with something, bring him things, run this errand for him.  These are the things they love, and how they need to be shown that they are loved.

Can I tell you, their love languages drive me insane!  My brain completely short circuits when at the end of the day taking care of my precious God-given chatterboxes babies and I just want to sit down for 10 minutes before cleaning the kitchen after dinner and Ava wants to sit ON ME, sticks her foot in my face and whispers while I’m watching (usually the news) “tickle my leg”.  I do for a while, but it is completely against my nature.  And as for helping and bring me “whatevers” and just keep me company while I…  Oh my God, for me it’s torture…but for him it’s what he needs, it’s how he feels loved and I, since I love him, have to suck it up and show him love the way he needs to be loved.  Right?

Me, spending the money he works 60+ hours a week for, on things that he might need but probably doesn’t really want so that I can feel I’ve done something for his birthday by giving gifts, because I love to do it…is not a blessing for him.  It’s an invitation to war.  Yes, it’s excruciating for me to not shower him with gifts on his 40th birthday and throw a huge party and have a “this is your life” kind of moment with all his old friends…but that doesn’t bless him, that blesses ME.  And really, life is not all about me, is it.

So, after all this chatter about, yes, Me…happy (now belated) birthday to my dear, grown up husband, who does know how to love me for real, the way I need to be loved…and I will continue to love you the way you love to be loved.  Muah.





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