Every now and then, when more than a week has gone by without updating the blog, I get to thinking that maybe it's just too much of a hassle and I should just go ahead and ditch it like every journa or diaryl I have ever written. But then I forget a rather important, pressing detail of my life, like, just for example of course, how long exactly Colby and I have been together. You know, it seems like it might be six years, but that couldn't possibly be right because I'm just not that old, right? But then I can do a little research and find a post from three years ago about how we've been together for three years, and well, you know, the sanity and peaceful sleep that comes with the ability to retrace my steps like that--you just can't buy that peace of mind at Target!
So, I carry on blogging.
Six years. That means that we've been together for more than 20% of my life--ever since I was just a wee pup of 19 years old. I'm three years older than he was when he started dating, and holy hell, I thought he was just about the most grown up, mature, OLDEST dude ever. Even my little sister is older than that now.
We talk a lot about the future. It makes me laugh sometimes to remember how difficult it was to get him to open up about "where do you see us in five years?" when we were dating and I was desperate for a commitment, or even the hint of one. Now we toss around the idea of having babies and moving to far off locales and where we want to retire like we're discussing what movie we want to go see. It feels so natural and completely organic that we'll have all of these experiences together.
Life is a little overwhelming right now. We're both a little stressed at work and in our respective graduate programs. The economy is taking it's toll in the form of a continuously diving house value and we are dealing with the uncertainty of having no clue where in the world we will live at this time next year. I haven't had the time or energy to reconnect with many of my friends lately, and I feel a little bit of the lonely winter sadness creeping around my heart.
Colby asked me the other day if I had changed my mind about ever wanting to have kids. The full weight of just how incredibly difficult it is to deal with children hits me every single day. And every night I come home from taking care of and disciplining other people's kids and thank the good Lord above that I can just veg out on the sofa and watch tv without having to worry about taking care of anyone else. I can just sit, snug in the crook of my husband's arm and feel perfectly content.
I don't know when I'll know that I want to have kids. Right now, building a family seems rather like the prospect of college did when I was in grade school. Something that I knew that I was going to to do, but no concrete ideas of exactly when or how I would get there. I want to be a better person before I have kids. I want to do the laundry on a regular basis, keep the house clean, and be the wife that gets dinner on the table every night, and doesn't have to be scolded to eat her vegetables. I want to finish school and actually use my degree for a little while and then take a break so that I can stay home. I've seen a lot in my short time working at daycare facilities, and as great a program as I think we have, the working mom and dad lifestyle is not what I want for my children.
But I'm just not ready to give up my life for them yet. I remember sitting in the parking lot of Colby's apartment when he lived in Georgia, about four years ago. We were in my car, saying our goodbyes when he suddenly stopped talking and gazed steadily into my eyes.
"Our children will have beautiful eyes."
What I didn't know at the time was that we still had years of tumult and distance ahead of us. What I did know was that he was right and that some day those theoretical children would become a reality. And even now, six years after he shyly asked me to be his Valentine, as he was dropping me off after our first date, and four years after that out of character moment in the parking lot, I know that some day he will be right. And when that time comes, whether I'm serving up four course meals or just barely managing to pour cereal and milk into a bowl, I know that our children will have the most beautiful eyes in the world.