Skip to main content

Current contentment.

I've been ruminating on the nature of marriage and relationships in general lately.  I realised that as of August, Himself and I will have been married for seven years.  That means I've been in the same relationship for eight and a half years.  Anybody who knew me in the pre-Himself days might be pinching themselves about now.

I never put much stock in long term relationships.  I had many a short term gig, and I didn't see myself as the marrying type.  If you'd told the twenty-something me that in ten years I'd be living in suburbia with my husband and our two children, smart money would be on a sarcastic response with a side of eye rolling.  If you'd told my grandfather that I'd be a housewife with a catering business, there would definitely have been snorting, possibly even sniggering, with his helping of eye rolling.  *lol*

As unexpected an outcome as my current lifestyle is, I'm loving it.  Yes, I get frustrated and tired dealing with a temperamental two year old diva and He Who Sleeps Not.  Yes, I get the occasional swamping wave of guilt over not financially contributing more to the household.  That said, I feel incredibly grateful that thanks to Himself's superior planning and work ethic I'm able to stay home with our children.  I'm so lucky that I'm able to play at cooking and crafting and get paid for it.  I'm insanely fortunate to have a husband that can still give me butterflies after all this time.

Life is good.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The real deal.

So, I thought I'd been having cravings for the last couple of weeks because I've been eating loads of tuna and pasta, seemed like that was all I wanted to eat. Tuna sandwiches with a cup of tomato soup to dip them in, and egg noodle pasta for some reason. That is, until Monday night. Monday night, Himself called me on his way home from work as usual and asked if we needed anything (again, as usual). I said no, that I'd already been to the store but I wasn't really hungry anyway, and that I'd see him when he got home. I settled in with the cats on the couch and started flicking channels, getting the girlie TV out of the way so that Himself wouldn't have to suffer through it when he got home... Half an hour later, it struck. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was starving. It wasn't the usual "go rifle through the kitchen until I happen upon something that looks edible" hunger. It was specific, overpowering, CRAVING hunger. What did I want,

Lazy weekend.

Bliss. Sun, moglets, sun, loads of good food, sun, and Himself. Good combo, let me tell you. We let the moggies out sans leads for the first time on Thursday (sporting their new collars and tags, and freshly dosed with flea drops), just for about an hour to see how they handled it. Both of them tore headlong into the flowerbeds in search of new smells and the occasional bug to eat. On Friday I left the back doors of the conservatory flung open to let the seriously amazing weather in and the felines out. This turned into me sitting in the conservatory for longer than I'd care to admit, book discarded to one side because watching them chase bees, butterflies and each other was more amusing. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, so I hied myself down to the conservatory (as I woke up around half six and thought Himself might rather sleep a LITTLE longer...) for a bowl of muesli, a cup of peppermint tea, some reading and yet more book neglecting as I watched the lunatics conti

Dreams and other nocturnal habits.

I've always been a dreamer, in the literal sense. From a very young age I've been able to remember my dreams, and once I started a dream one night and finished it the next. This sounds great, and I've had some seriously fabulous nocturnal journeys through time and space, but on the flip side, not all dreams are good ones. I've had some proper toe-curling nightmares, and some of the worst ones have been in my adult years. The reason this is on my mind particularly right now is that I had a pretty gnarly one night before last, and during yesterday's aforementioned pestering phone call to my sister I told her about it. She told me that her boyfriend had been doing a little reading about dreams in general, and had researched (and actually put into practice) a tactic of dreaming deliberately. The research he found described the way to consciously go to sleep with a certain event or setting in mind, which basically ensures where your dreams will go. Apparently this