Living my own dream

This is an ode to my husband. He of sexy accent and cute smile and shared bathroom. God love him. I sure do. I married the first person that made me feel special when I was 18 years old. He went on to crush me in so many ways there is still evidence of my wariness now. BUT! He gave me two wonderfu sons who I simply love more than my next breath. I can deal with the history of Brian and I. If only to be glad in the being of Chase and Chris.

Then came Patrik. I think I may have seduced him...sort of. We had been giving each other the eye for a couple of weeks. He was a bellman at La Concha where dad was the Genereal Manager. I worked in the gift shop there, managed by someone else. We batted eyes at each other for awhile and then one night he came into the shop and asked me to take a break with him. We just talked, in a smoky hallway behind the kitchen. He told me he was from Slovakia and I swear I almost corrected him ("you mean Czecholslovakia..." ) but thank goodness I didn't (the country had split into Slovakia and Czech Republic in 1993). A week or two after our talk in the back hallway I left a note on his podium...it said in essence that I would like to get to know him better outside of work but not to tell anyone since his boss was my dad. I couldn't believe he wasn't fazed by that. Long story short, we dated, dad ended up loving him, and we married at a wonderful wedding in Key West on April 17, 1999. I loved my wedding. I had a ball. Patrik doesn't even remember it- he was so nervous. It was the last time I ever danced with dad. It was glorious. It was everything I ever wanted in a wedding. Seriously.

The first 3 years of marriage were HARD. Patrik had inherited two pre-pubescent boys that I spent much energy siding with. It was difficult at best. But we muddled thru. Went on to have beautiful Laura, Julia, and Emma. Lucky us.

Lucky us. We held on thru the tough stuff. And have somehow ended up here, at a place where I think we are both so blessedly comfortable and pleased with how things have turned out. We put up with each other on the bad days, and are completely smitten on the good ones. I just can't believe it sometimes. Does he drive me crazy? Hell yes! But I also know better than to judge on the stuff that makes me want to strangle. I watch him with the girls- his desire to snuggle, his jumping up and dancing with them on a whim during a great Slovak song, his passion for me always...he says "I love you" more than I do and I hope this stinginess of heart isn't a result of being so hurt before...I am working on this like you wouldn't believe. Because I DO SO VERY love him. He makes me laugh, he GETS me, he supports me, he adores my children. He's still cute, too! He is RIGHT for me. We balance each other. I am so damn grateful to have him. Even when I feel blinded by anger or frustration...I will not leave this...this is what I have been searching for my entire life. The thing I never thought I'd find. The thing I was too shy or too fat for. Patrik validates me in more ways than even I realize. Because despite the irritible bowel and the PMS and the pushy insistence to have things MY WAY! and my weight gain and easy tears and my unwavering liberalness...he's stayed. He's here. He is right now putting new locks and handles on the front door because the old ones were tarnished..not broken but tarnished...

*sigh*

He has been my hero more than a couple of times. He would die for my kids...all of them...even the ones that were breathing before I met him. He would sacrifice himself for mom and my brothers...he would shrink to an unrecognizble form of himself if anything happened to me.

He is my husband. And I am so full of gratitude that I found him. I cannot describe the way he looks at me sometimes...as if he's never seen me before...how does he do that? He is the prince charming of my adolescent dreams. Who knew I'd be lucky enough to really get him??!!

*sigh*

I know when to count blessings. When it comes to my husband, sometimes I count them twice.

Happy New Year.

*Happy Anniversay, Mom*