Anniversary Amnesia
Choose Spontaneity Over Scheduled Affection
I'm pretty sure Mary and I got married on June 30th. Before you shake your head and make that "tsk tsk" noise because I can't be bothered memorizing one date, I'd like to say that Mary has absolutely no recollection of our anniversary either.
Last year, in the middle of our vacation, we were doing dishes, and one of us said, "I think today might be our anniversary." We both laughed, finished the dishes, and then went out to play some tennis. No gifts were purchased, no cards were exchanged, and it was never spoken of again.
I've always hated the pressure of planned dates of appreciation. From Valentine's Day to Mother's Day to anniversaries, they all feel like a pressure cooker designed to make you buy stuff or feel bad because you didn't do enough. Is it meaningful if Hallmark tells me to tell you that I love you?
I don't think it is.
I much prefer to show love and affection in the moment when it's happening. But I do recognize that life can get away from us. We get busy. We get complacent. We have a couple of kids who take up all the oxygen in the room. (To my kids: if you googled your mom and came across this article, I love you animals beyond words, but, you know, sometimes you're a lot.) Back to Mary. I can admit that I don't show my love and appreciation in those random moments anywhere near as much as I could or should.
While I'm not sure the exact date of our anniversary, I know it's this week, and if I don't say something right now, I'm 100 percent guaranteed to forget about it entirely by this afternoon, so I'm going to take a moment to say Happy Anniversary to my lady friend, Mary. Instead of a gift (because what the hell do we need?), here are just a few ways you make me a better person.
The tilt of your head and the silent but (sometimes) stern look. There are many moments in my life where I lose my cool. Often while parenting or driving. I have a reputation for escalating my anger to a level that is not helpful to anyone. My voice rises, and I become less rational. In those moments, you stand in my sightline without saying a word and give me a look that says, "You're acting like a raving lunatic, and it would be better for everyone if you shut your trap." It doesn't always work immediately, but I track the look and, at some point, right the ship.
You don't take the bait. I can be crusty, grumpy, emotional (times four million with menopause,) and passionate about arguments that, if I'm honest, don't require passion. Your ability to look me in the eye, say nothing, and then change the subject is astounding. Sure, you might be disassociating because my big feelings are something you're still not comfortable with, but that silence gives me the space I need to calm the f down.
Spies, Starbucks, and Non Prison Warden Vibes. You've said this many times: if our children were raised by me alone, they would feel like they lived in a prison, but if you raised them alone, they'd probably never shower, finish homework, or go to a yearly check-up. We know it's a joke, but we also know there's a lot of truth in this particular jest. I love it because it's funny and highlights that no parent needs to be all things to their kids. If you're fortunate enough to parent with a partner, you can each focus on what you're good at. Mary, you're exceptional at making up games like Spies, where you and the kids shoot Nerf guns at each other in the basement while dressed up in army gear. You take them to Starbucks and buy them cake pops at 8 am while coming just short of saying, "Don't tell your mom about this." You play Rhianna loud in the car and dance side to side, trying to shake the car at stop lights. You are a loving and nonjudgmental person that the kids can go to when they need someone to listen without offering a 9-point plan for fixing their problem.
You make the mundane fun. I remember the time the heat went out in our Hells Kitchen apartment on a freezing holiday weekend. When the landlord refused to pick up his phone, you suggested we get a room at the W. We could pay for that before kids took every last extra penny we made. We made the most of our stay, eating out and pretending to be tourists from Ohio. We said things like, "Oh, we should get a cosmopolitan like those girls on Sex and the City!" Or, "Why don't we head over to that Houston Street?" Pronouncing it like the city in Texas, with the flattest midwestern drawl. I love it when we find each other at the grocery store after splitting up to tackle our shopping list, and you pretend to be a long-lost college friend I haven't seen in years. "Robin? Oh. My. God. What are the chances of seeing you at the Key Food?" Your character, Brenda, is one of my favorites. She wildly flags down the car at shopping centers when I pull up at the entrance to load up the trunk, then asks for a ride and if she can stay over at my house. Brenda confused the kids when they were little but always made me laugh.
You don't give a shit about dates either. We must have an entire draw filled with cards we bought for an anniversary or Valentine's Day that we forgot to fill out.
You're the Jane Wagner to my Lily Tomlin. For every audition I put on tape in our living room, you read the lines and give me ideas for better or more creative takes. Sure, you mouth the words alongside me as I'm doing the audition, which, you know, is a tad bit distracting, so let's work on that. But you jump in with all the creativity and ideas to help me improve every audition, piece of writing, podcast episode idea, or business venture.
Happy anniversary, Mary. I'm thankful that you're the yin to my outsized yang. I love you for sticking by me through career highs and lows, perimenopause and menopause, too, for constantly pushing me to take risks in my career, and even though I say I don't like it, I'm thankful for your honest feedback on all that I do. I'm not lying; I don't like it, but I do need it.
I love you and am glad we're a team in this adventure called "What in the hell are we doing here?"
Here's to at least 17 more forgotten anniversaries.
P.S. I just remembered that we have a lovely framed picture from our wedding that a friend gave us. Our wedding date is inscribed on the bottom. Now, neither one of us has an excuse. No gifts are required, but I suppose it wouldn't kill us to say, "Happy Anniversary, and I'm glad we're in this thing together."
But if we forget, that's okay, too.
On this week’s episode of my podcast Well…Adjusting, Producer Steph & I take the show to Washington Square Park for a special Speed Advice session! Set up with a table, chairs, and microphones, we invited park-goers to pop in for five minutes of quick-fire advice.
Topics covered:
How to get motivated when your day job drains you.
Getting your kid to do their laundry.
Deciding on a major to pursue.
Tackling overwhelming work tasks.
Deciphering if a friend is more than just a friend.
You can get Well…Adjusting wherever you get your pods or click the button below!
Absolutely love this! And LOVE you both!!! Happy early Anniversary!!!