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Dear You

Dear You:

What's up

You turned 28 this week. I’ve known you since you were 18. That’s not much in the grand scheme of life, and there are others who have known you much longer, but I can only tell you that in the last 10 years, I’ve come to love you more and more.

You forgot to take the trash bag out yesterday morning, but I didn’t get mad (yay me!) because I knew you were racing to work to make it another record day for your business. It makes me smile that you love your job and love providing for our family.

You get to have a birthday party this weekend! I won’t mind waking up early on Sunday morning to cook for 20 of our closest friends because I see how your eyes light up when we talk about it, and you can’t think of anything more fun than watching the Saints game with these people. I can’t think of anything greater, either.

You told me I stunk last night. But that’s OK because…I did.

You won’t believe that amount of groceries I’m going to bribe you to come buy with me.

You make me happy, and I hope our future little boys (I’M NOT PREGNANT:-)) have your exact same personality so I can have more and more and more and more of you for the rest of my life.


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Like A Boss

jason at work

Did I ever mention how great my husband is? I don’t mind when our lunch dates look like this because a) he’s so cute, b) he works this hard so I can be in school, c) he kills all the gross bugs around our apartment and d) he doesn’t get mad he doesn’t get as mad anymore when I watch Gilmore Girls at night to go to sleep.

There are millions of other reasons why he’s perfect, but I won’t bore you with more gush. Just wanted to share a slice of my heaven 🙂


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Date Night

Who doesn’t love a good date night? Today, I’m linking up to Gussy Sews Inspiration Workshop about date nights! Who said getting married meant no more fun dates?

Jason and I should be a pro at dating now. It has been 10 years after all. But, we find ourselves being creative with our dates because a) we love staying home, and b) we’re lazy on weeknights when we’ve both been out and about all day.

So, dates often come in the form of pizza:

pizza

Or weddings we’re either attending or in:

wedding

Or, sometimes we like to stretch our creative muscle (aka Jason buys me a Corks N Canvas night for my birthday so I’ll stop bugging him about going!):

painting

Sometimes we’ll even venture down to New Orleans to soak up the fun:

jazzfest

But, most of the time, it’s spent on the couch, snuggling with this one:

sadie chair

Watching trashy TV, ordering sushi and just being us. Which, is exactly the thing we love to do the most.

Cheers to date nights!

Gussy


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Covering Someone In Prayer

In all my years, months of marriage, I have learned something. It’s not always a rose garden.

I know. I know. You’re all rolling your eyes, like duh, Stephanie.

But hear me out.

I’ve known Jason (hubby-extraordinaire) for nearly 10 years. We met as freshmen at LSU, and even after all this time, we still remember that moment we saw each other in the dorm hallway. And over the last few years, we have built a wonderful relationship full of laughter, love and faith in each other as individuals and faith in ourselves as a couple.

The second year of marriage, for me, has been an adventure. We’re out of the post-wedding buzz, the first year of firsts, and reality of what it takes to make this work day in and day out is setting in. All great experiences. And a lot of new ones at that. I’m learning to be understanding, to be more patient, to be more loving even when I don’t feel lovable, and I don’t feel loving towards him.

And in these moments where I’m prickly and un-lovable, I find it a lot easier to nitpick and find all the things that are going wrong. And I find it a lot easier to spin myself into a “I’m so amazing, and everyone else is so not” syndrome that I fail miserably at humility and empathy. But something changed for me yesterday.

I found a blog post about 31 Days of Prayer for Your Husband. And it is a prayer plan for covering your husband in different prayers to uplift and strengthen him and your family. And the line in the intro paragraph struck me: “Satan desires to destroy your husband, especially his character and his leadership in your relationship.” But what is so important is that I realized I was being used as the instrument of destroying.

I wasn’t being understanding or empathetic. I wasn’t building him up and being supportive. I was tearing down. Constantly nagging about something, and expecting him to be so many things at once. And I instantly felt relieved. I knew what I had to do. Remove myself from the driver’s seat and let God take over. Place myself in a position to pray for Jason, and for our family, rather lamenting about what I thought was going wrong. I finally stopped spinning.

So I’ll be praying for my husband (more than usual) over the next 31 days, and maybe you’ll join me?


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Counting Our Blessings

He started digging through the shelves, looking behind doors, under cabinets. Opening and closing things at a confusing pace. I didn’t think much of it, because let’s face it, he’s a little random at times. And usually he’s looking for a snack.

Then he started climbing on stools, looking on top of closets and in storage spaces. I watched for a good 5 minutes in amusement as he roamed our 900-square-foot apartment many times over with a purpose. Finally, from my dishwashing perch, I asked. “Jason, what are you looking for?”

And as is his habit when he does chores, two iPod headphones were stuck in his ears, music that I cannot appreciate blaring through each at a decibel level that has GOT to be unhealthy brought on by his years of drumming. He did not hear me.

So I again, I asked, a little louder. “What are you looking for?” Finally, he sensed my question, and took one headphone out, looked at me sweetly and said. “Lightbulbs.”

Ah. The bane of my existence. Those tiny, itty bitty chores that everyone hates doing, left for the last possible minute to do, and couples have contests to see who can outlast the other accepting the inconvience. Over the last three months, we’ve had at least three lightbulbs out (laundry room, porch and closet). Changing lightbulbs. Vacumming. Throwing out pizza boxes that stack up right next to the trashcan because they can’t fit in the trash can, and neither of us feel like walking them the 20 steps to the dumpster to throw them out, so there they lay. I hate changing lightbulbs. No idea why. It just is that way. Just like I hate cleaning the bowl of Rotel dip with the gooky, stuck on Velveeta cheese. I just won’t do it.

“Oh,” I replied. “Look in the white box, on top of the laundry room shelves, by the other white box, under the Band-Aids.” Like duh. Who wouldn’t know to look there?

So there he went, got a chair, grabbed the lightbulbs, and changed all the broken ones. And then there was light. And I smiled.

For as much as I hate changing lightbulbs, I usually end up doing it anyway, because I’m usually home more often and by the time he gets home from another 12-hour day working with some of the most interesting people in the city, he’s a little tired. And he knows this. He knows I hate it, yet, more often than not, I lose the inconvenience contest by virture of my OCD and lack of patience (I’m WORKING on it!)

But not this time. He changed the lightbulbs. Without having to be asked. Period.

Silly, right? That I would find this much enjoyment out of a simple chore. But it was more than that. To me, it was a sign of “we’re in this together;” “I’m part of this house too” and ” you can count on me.” After a week of being confronted with a lot of new emotions and sadness about life, he understood that the simple things often add up to bigger things. And the simple act of him changing the lightbulbs, he knew, would give me just a quick, subtle sign that he’s on my team, through good and bad, dark times and bright times, lightbulbs and no lightbulbs.

Now, if we can just conquer the pizza boxes…