Not long ago, I was chatting with my mom on the phone, having my morning cup of Coca-Cola. I was looking pretty stunning that particular morning, wearing a pair of Betty Boop pajama pants that were purchased at a yard sale, one of Michael's old, grey fraternity t-shirts from his Penn State days, and my dirty hair was pulled up on top of my head in a loose, floppy bun. My mom said to me,
"I'm so happy for you, for getting just what you wanted out of life. You are right where you've always wanted to be."
I stepped over the boys, who were laying on the floor, fighting over an action figure (one of twelve thousand that were scattered all over the living room) to peek at a mirror.
I giggled.
"Mom, please tell me you are being sarcastic."
She began to explain. I was a bit socially awkward, growing up. Any school dance I ever attended, I attended because my parents forced me to go. I was a bookworm and a home body. I was also a late bloomer, who was still playing with Barbies when my friends were getting their first boyfriends. Because of my late development, late puberty, and small size, my parents always wondered if I would be able to have children. Although, they'll never admit it, I am sure that they also wondered if I'd ever get a boyfriend, much less a husband.
Lo and behold, I came out of my shell and met Michael. First came love, then came marriage, then came... well, you know the rest. I am an ambitious, competitive person. I have many years left to get the most of life and to settle myself into a successful career. And I know that good things are in store for me, because I have a desire to achieve. But, first things first. I have done what everyone doubted I would ever do. I have a loving husband. I have two beautiful boys. I have a home and a family, and that is my primary focus right now. My mom was right. I am a very lucky girl.
This past week, for the first time since the boys were born, Michael had to go away on business. At first, the boys and I celebrated having a break from the family neat freak by leaving dishes on the table, letting crumbs fall to the floor, and not putting DVDs directly back into their cases. But by the third day, I began to miss having someone to share a smile with when Henry told a new knock-knock joke or when Jack said something only a forty year old woman would say. Thursday night I had trouble sleeping. Why was it so quiet? Why could I hear every creak that the house made? Then I realized that for six years, Michael has been in bed next to me, sleeping, breathing, snoring. I've gotten used to him being... there. That's not to say that half of the time I want to whack him with a frying pan when he's not looking. But the other half of the time, our life, as a family, is awesome and it makes me thrilled to know that it's "forever."
Yesterday afternoon, excited to see my husband, I took a shower, shaved my legs, applied some makeup, and even flat ironed my hair. I put on a cute sundress and the boys and I headed to the airport to pick up Michael. We had a joyful reunion at the airport, and then the four of us came home. It was nice to all be together, again. Through the baby monitor, I listened to Michael read to our giggling boys, putting them to bed, while I went upstairs to change. I washed the makeup off of my face and took off the cute sundress. I put on my Betty Boop pajama pants and Michael's old, grey ATO shirt. I twisted my hair up to its comfortable position on top of my head and went downstairs to join Michael on the couch. We shared some milk and cookies and started watching some DVR'd "Attack of the Show." As Michael drifted off to sleep halfway through the episode and began to snore, I smiled and leaned my head on his shoulder.
Everything is as it should be and just the way I want it.
