On being selflessly married for 9 years and then throwing a fit about who has to walk the dog . . .

A few weeks ago, Jeff and I celebrated our 9-year anniversary.  While a dear family friend ate macaroni and cheese and watched “Alice in Wonderland” with our 3 kiddos, we walked across the Douglas bridge, ate amazing sushi, and walked home, just in time to see the Queen of Hearts go after poor Alice.

August is a lovely month for weddings.  My family certainly thinks so.  Within the past month, two of my cousins were married (not to each other J) .  Both weddings took place in Juneau.  The first one we missed due to travel but the second we attended with gusto, including silver shoes, pigtails, blue flowered dresses, and white shrugs. 

Today as I colored, cut out and laminated items for the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd Atria, I decided to listen to the podcast of my cousin Jacob, and his wife Cailey’s wedding homily, given by Fr. Thomas Weise (which you can incidentally listen to as well at http://sempergumbyinalaska.blogspot.com/2012/08/jacob-cailey-wedding-at-shrine-of-st.html ).  Having been in Texas on their special day, I didn’t realize until I was listening that Jacob and Cailey had chosen the same Gospel for their marriage which Jeff & I had chosen 9 years ago—The Washing of the Feet, from John’s Gospel.

Fr. Thomas notes in the homily that marriage requires the same self-giving love of a mother giving birth, and of Jesus on the Cross.  Love which is willing to sacrifice and to suffer.  Yes, I thought as I lettered in the Eucharistic chart in red, of course.  Like most married couples, Jeff and I are no strangers to sacrifice. Our marriage was formed in the crucible of colicky twin girls.  We’ve had plenty of opportunities to practice sacrificial love.  I felt sentimental.  I felt accomplished.  Here we are, 9 years, and 3 kids later and sure we have our ups and downs, but overall, we love each other.  We’ve learned how to wash each other’s feet.

Later that night after washing up the dinner dishes, reading bedtime stories and putting the kids to bed, Jeff and I wandered off to separate pursuits.  Jeff worked on his engineering class and I watched a movie on Netflix and folded laundry.  Slowly 9pm became 10pm and before I knew it, it was way past our bedtime.  I wandered over to Jeff at his computer, kissed the top of his head and suggested we head to bed.  Tearing his eyes from the computer, he looked up at me, and said “Okay, I have a few more minutes of work to do.  Can you walk the dog?” 

9 years of self-less marriage out the window.  What do you mean, can I walk the dog?!?  I’m tired, AND I started walking to bed first, therefore defaulting any leftover household duties to you.  I gave Jeff the look.  He diplomatically suggested we do “rock-paper-scissors” to settle this (a technique, by the way, which has served us well through 6 collective years of cloth-diapers).  I lost the first and suggested best 2 out of 3.  I lost the second, suggested 3 out of 5 and then, finally accepting defeat, stomped out the door. 

Walking into the rain with the dog panting beside me and a flashlight in my hand I finally stopped myself mid-pout, looked up at the sky and laughed at myself. 

Want to know the difference for Jeff and I between our first year of marriage and our ninth?  The first year we probably could have sulked for a good day over the dog walking infraction, whereas last night I finished walking the dog, closed up the house, went back to Jeff who was still at the computer and kissed him on the head again.  He looked up at me and we both giggled.  Fits over dog-walking aside, I guess we’ve grown.