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| The ceiling paint blotch in our bedroom. |
This is the view above the side where I sleep in our king bed in our still new-ish house. This was a point of contention in our marriage for a hot minute, and the reasoning will keep you amused, but first, some back story. Nearly two years ago, after a car accident that broke both our daughter's legs, gave my husband some broken ribs, new shoulder issues, and new sore ankle spots, also leaving me with some bruising, and severe and still surprising PTSD, when all was said and done from the wreckage, my husband bought us a house.
I say he bought us a house not because society deems that husbands buy their family a house. I say that because he spent his medical leave from post accident surgery finding listings in our price and location range, vetoing the ones that I argued, "But the pictures!," and doing all of the logistics for paperwork that was way above my head and got us a house. He made sure I went to see any house that was a serious candidate. I say he bought us a house because he used most of his portion of the settlement from the accident to finally grab some security and a new place to call home, not to mention putting in all the grunt work.
Now we need to take a turn back in time because much like our engagement and wedding planning, this house was a quick process and I couldn't handle too many choices or too much input from the peanut gallery. I write this a few days before what marks 9 years to the day, March 17th, 2009 that my then-boyfriend-now-husband asked me to marry him. My Irish man asked this very very Irish lady to be his wife on Saint Patrick's Day.
We were living with my no-relation-but-still-deemed Aunt while I was finishing college, he was working two jobs, and we were saving to move across the country. It was a cold morning, I was slightly under the weather and indulging in my guilty pleasure TV show, "90210" while outlining and doing homework. He was in the office/hangout area where we starting boxing up all the things. Side note: we learned when packing the truck that it is not good to just fill large boxes with all the things when only one of us is large enough to lift it.
When he was in the office area he said "Honey, come here, what's this box?" I was deep into Donna and David drama, and not into being bothered. My reaction, "What? What are you going on about?"
"This box!," he reiterates, "What is this one?" "I peel myself off of the floor sporting my sweat pants and a sweatshirt and drug myself into the next room while belting out an "Ugggghhhhhhh, what box there is nothing new in there!," only to walk into him on one knee with a ring box.
If memory serves I gasped and said, "What are you doing!?," as he asked me if I would marry him. I think we know what the answer was and at 11ish AM we dropped everything and went to the bar to celebrate. Can you believe we weren't the only ones there? Oh wait, it was St. Patrick's Day.
In less than 90 days we planned a wedding the day after I walked at my graduation with a Bachelor's Degree, and the day after the wedding we started our drive across the country to start a new life. On June 14th, 2009 we had an epic wedding/goodbye Oregon reception/party and started life as a married couple. On our wedding night my car was broken into and among the packed things that were stolen was my laptop, makeup bag with all my new jewelry including the promise ring he bought me, my backpack with my hair dryer, retainer and random hair stuff, all of my husband's "nice" clothes from 5 years of collecting during dating, and some dignity.
While trekking across the country, our Penske truck and trailer holding our car with one taped window from the break, wouldn't fit in most of our hotel parking lots so we frequently left the truck at Wal-Mart, got the car down and drove to wherever we were staying. I think you can see we have a very "off" kind of happening or luck or coincidence among us in a "well-that-didn't-go-quite-as-planned" way, but we bounce back pretty quickly and have had plenty of family love and support in the midst of life drama.
It is this happening of coincidence or "off-ness" that makes this photo so amazing. See, we started house hunting in late August, early September, less than 90 days after the accident. We put in one offer on one house, got it, closed two days before Halloween and moved in by Thanksgiving. Again, no patience or room for messing around.
We got the crazy idea to paint some of the rooms before we moved in. I forever dreamed about an amazing girls room for my daughter and we'd been renters so long. For most of my own childhood I barely got to pick anything for my room besides posters and toys. My mom did everything. I never had a teenage room with wild colors so I went kind of nuts at the hardware store when allowed to make real decisions. We let the 3 year old pick her own, purple and green. The neon first picks didn't make it but she agreed when we rounded down the choices to some more calmer tones. I, cornily enough, picked a turquoise/teal, almost identical to our wedding color for the master bedroom.
Of course one day into an accent wall the "paint and new house fun" wore off and it was like real work to do this stuff. When we got to our room, the walls slant up. It's really cool actually but impossible for me to even reach after climbing to the ladder. The tall husband needed to step in. This was a few days into painting and trip number four or five to Lowes. It wasn't until he reached up and bent the wrong way that the little blotch showed up. He instantly got mad. He got even more mad when he found the tool to avoid that happening on the following store trip.
When he made that blotch I laughed. Not in a mean way. I had paint all over some of my good clothes and favorite flip flops. I had made a mess all over with barely a care. I was enjoying having a space to call mine and it could look as it would because it was "ours." I think he wanted it to be nicer or cleaner looking, immediately scolding himself for making the mess.
I said, "So what!?" He replied, "I know I just want it to look good." It was in this moment I had a rare, calm, cool, collected epiphany and made the remark, "Honey, what in our life is perfect or manicured or even looks right? Seriously? What about us says, 'Perfectly Painted Couple?' So why would our bedroom be any different?" He gave me a cutely annoyed look and we moved on and painted until we deemed it, as good as it would get. He knew I was right.
We are closing in on two years in the house. I stare at that spot a lot. Not scrutinizing; just looking at it. He has threatened to paint over it but during my darkest moments in that house, it brings me a strange comfort. That silly little blotch reminds me that we are imperfect, I am imperfect and flawed but bold and full of stories. That little blotch helps me stay sane when I feel the world pushing insanity towards me. I've stared at it when he puts something on the TV I cannot stand. I've stared at it when I'm soothing a sick or crying toddler. I've stared at it in tears of frustration, depression , anxiety and all the "how-the-fuck-did-we-get-here?," moments.
Maybe I like it because to me it is just another piece of our story. And even the days when life is looking bleak, I LOVE our story. Maybe some people can't say that. I have grown to love every bad part as much as the good because of what it has taught me and how it has formed me into the wife and mother I am currently. Maybe I like it because I left blotches too and it makes me feel less alone in my blotch-ness.
So, on the eve of our Engagement-iversary, I post this story not as some cautionary tale or weird diatribe, but because after 9 years of being completely enmeshed with this man I can tell you the flaws and imperfections are the best, most humbling, and most human parts of this life. We have moments where we don't even like each other, we have days that are immeasurably hard, we have days that are Facebook-profile-picture-worthy with updates galore on the goodness, but that blotch is there because on that day, it just happened upon us in an off way and we rolled with it (pun intended) and always will. And I really hope that spot is there as long as we are.
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