It's All How You Define "Celebrate"
My husband and I recently celebrated our 43rd wedding anniversary. Or wait, at least I think we did. I guess after 43 years, it’s all how you define “celebrate.” In full disclosure, I have to admit outright that I was rather distracted.
Most couples plan something out of the ordinary for their anniversary. Perhaps they book a table at their favorite restaurant for dinner. Or, perhaps a special trip is planned to reconnect and remember why it is you chose one another in the first place. I wish I could report that I was full of intentional thought on our anniversary day. But alas, that would be a grave mistruth. This is how the day went.
We were in the midst of a nine day-long visit with our two little grandchildren. Natalie is three, and Elliot is nine months old. My husband left early that day for work, so I was on solo duty for the early morning routine with the kids. By 7:30 am, I had blueberry stains one shoulder and spit-up remnants on the other. By 11 am the kids and I had already taken a stroller walk, played in the mini blow up pool on the back deck, and read the book, “Are You My Mother” by P. D. Eastman at least 5 times on repeat. Soon thereafter, it was lunch time with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the shape of a star (thanks to a random Christmas cookie cutter I just happened to come upon), and fresh smashed berry smudges on the belly portion of my white t-shirt. Duplo blocks were in constant rotation with Hot Wheel car tracks in my family room floor.
Nap time gave me an opportunity to clean the stacked dishes and put the rainbow unicorn puzzle pieces back together. And then after nap time, it was more play until, another meal, another clean up, and bath time. The day was a full throttle immersion into smiles and play, and snuggles.
So, on the happenstance of a 43rd wedding anniversary falling on a Wednesday when I ‘m in full time Nona-mode, the chances of me remembering our anniversary are next to nil. Heck, I don’t think that day I could have told you my husband had a name other than “Papa.” It wasn’t until the doorbell rang at 4:30 pm that I recognized my oversight. I opened my front door to see a floral delivery man holding a beautiful bouquet of assorted and colorful flowers. Oh no, I thought.
When I shared with a friend the craziness and my lack of intentionality regarding this year’s anniversary, she suggested that this was the perfect celebration. I appreciated her spin on a pretty weak effort on my part. However, I did agree. Isn’t this the holistic fruition of the past 43 years? My husband and I could have been sailing amidst the Greek Isles, but instead we were at home, in good health, with our some of our very favorite little people. The best gift of the day was when sweet Elliot started crawling. I mean, that’s a pretty awesome anniversary gift.
In all honesty, I realize the importance of making time as a couple; perhaps even more so as time goes by. My husband arrived home to see his thoughtful gift of flowers displayed prominently in our kitchen. As for my gift to him? All I had was me; all dolled up with peanut butter in my hair, berry stains on my clothes, and two little cuties with outstretched arms. Our shared look of appreciation said it all. A day of celebration indeed.