Oh February ❤ – I wanted to spend the next few Sundays talking about LOVE – all kinds. Since we’re celebrating Valentine’s Day this week on Thursday I thought it fitting to start with the kind of love we share with our partners. I’m such a fan of the real kind of love, the deep stuff – where we feel supported, connected and known. I feel so fortunate to have this -to have made this in my own home. My own love story goes like this.
I’ve known my husband since I was about fifteen years old. I actually dated a good friend of his during high school – that’s how we met. Classy, right? The month after high school one of my very best friends joined the military and was leaving for basic training – we threw a little going away dinner celebration for her, my now handsome husband paid for my dinner, we ended up hanging out after – and almost every single day since then. We got married when I was just NINETEEN! Babies. He’s a few years older than me – we’re 31 and 34 now. Let me tell you a few things about Steve that I love. He plays every. single. sport – seriously guys, from football to bowling. Everything in between. Bowling – speaking of, he’s on a bowling league. Yep. And he’s good at them all. Isn’t that kind of nerdy? He’s game for just about anything I want to do. One of my “things” is travel – which isn’t, or wasn’t his thing – he’s joined me in ten different countries now. He’s been my biggest supporter in creating this blog. In my career. I’ve been a 911 dispatcher for twelve years now – I started just two months after we were married. Although we sometimes have the feel good stuff – we mostly deal with the bad stuff, the kind that I don’t even like talking about. He respects this. He doesn’t ask questions, but listens when I feel like sharing. It comes with all kinds of other things too – moodiness, depression, anxiety, stress, lack of sleep, shift work – holidays and weekends – missed events – and he deals. Almost eleven years ago I gave myself the best birthday gift ever – Hank. My yorkie poodle. Steve was so not a fan of the idea – he actually told me he’d have nothing to do with the puppy. Our first night home I’d purchased and prepped a crate next to my side of the bed for Hank – after I put him inside and closed the door he cried for about three minutes, Steve got up, took him out and put him under his arm and blanket. He’s been sleeping there every since. I often come home to Steve talking or even singing to Hank. He cooks his meals. Walks him every night. And calls him his “main man”. ❤