While some of you might think this post is about the new box office hit I plan to see with my family next week during our "stay-cation," you're wrong.
My husband, who is like an onion with many layers, has fondly been nicknamed "Shrek" by his friends. As Fiona, if you'll allow me, I can tell you it fits much of the time. According to Wikipedia, the DreamWorks character is "a big, strong, solitude-loving, intimidating ogre." He's also got a heart of gold under all that muck and bravado.
Hence, my husband. My Shrek is six years my senior. He and I have been together for nearly 13 years and married for nearly eight years. I don't remember ever being giddy in love; we've just always had a rock-solid base of love from which all things have been endured. We've had ups, we've had downs. We're a perfect, imperfect work in progress.
I feel sorry for the people who don't recognize and embrace that marriage is a constant stream that ebbs and flows. The ebbs are inevitable. They peel back the faces we present to the world, sometimes open us raw and make us fight like hell to make our marriages survive, but, with conviction, marriages can and do survive. And thrive.
After all this time, I'm honestly not bored with him at all. I'm riveted by the man I have loved for so long. It's a joy to watch him to continue to grow and change as our lives become fuller, more blessed and more amazing with the addition of each child, through the relationships we have with our friends and family, and in the face of ever-unfolding tribulations and successes--the thickening of the fabric of our lives.
And we're getting better all the time.
I love you, baby.