A Post That Isn't About Annabelle

If you read this blog, you know I've written a lot about my daughter, Annabelle, in the last year. If you look at the photos on my iPhone, you'll find hundreds of Annabelle. Annabelle smiling. Annabelle crying. Annabelle eating. If you could somehow read my mind, almost all of the time, Annabelle would be there.

This, I'd argue, is understandable for a new Dad. And maybe even expected. I have a seven-month-old daughter who I strongly believe is the greatest thing that has ever happened.

But this post isn't about Annabelle; it's about her beautiful mother.

Two weeks ago, in the middle of possible first words, trying to discover new foods, and our first household sickness, Bridget and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary. Two years ago, on March 31, 2012, on a suddenly sunny day in Chatham, MA, I married my best friend and the most wonderful person I've ever known. We celebrated the anniversary with some small gifts and a nice dinner, but the day itself folded quietly into another exciting, stressful week.

And, well, that isn't quite fair.

A year of marriage is a big deal. Whether you've been married one year, two years, 10 years, or 30 years, each one presents its share of joy and sadness. New babies. Bad fights. Promotions at work. Expensive bills. Tropical vacations. Car accidents. They're all part of life and in just two years of marriage, I've realized just how important it is to have the right person by your side.

In a nutshell, I love spending time with Bridget. And as I listened to an old Freakonomics podcast about marriage this week, I was struck by just how important that sentence is. Here's an excerpt from the podcast:

We’ve moved to what economists would call consumption complementarities. We have more time, more money, and so you want to spend it with someone that you’ll enjoy. So, similar interests and passions. We call this the model of hedonic marriage. But really it’s a lot more familiar than that. This is just economists giving a jargon name to love. So you want someone who’s actually remarkably similar to you or has similar passions that you do. 

Our passions don't always align, but they often do. We love music, reading, traveling, Annabelle, and each other. More than that, Bridget makes me feel better when I'm having a tough day and keeps my ego in check when I think I've done something pretty special. She takes care of me, challenges me, cheers for me, and puts me in my place. And she does it all with a delicate touch. I admire and love her more today than I did two years ago. I can't wait to see what the next 60 years bring.

Happy second anniversary, Bridget. I love you so damn much. And, just because it will make you smile, here's a picture of our daughter inside a cardboard box:

The Art of Arguing

Looking back on our first month of blog posts, I'm realizing most of them are of full of wine and roses. Laughs about big fans. Jokes about bangs. Serious talks with dogs. And, well, that makes sense because Bridget and I are quite content. We are very happy we found each other and three months into this marriage thing, things are pretty damn good.

But, like everyone else, we argue.

We argue about little things (that cup you left on the table has been there for, like, two days!), we argue about medium things (well, fine, maybe I will go by myself!), and we argue about bigger things (yeah, let's spend our money on that ... are you serious?). We argue because that's what happens when you spend a lot of time with one person. You get on each other's nerves. Little things turn into big things. Conversations filled with jokes become conversations with folded arms.

And for us, it's heightened because neither of us is very good at being wrong. I wouldn't say Bridget is like a mule. I'd say she's like a mule stuck in mud with her hooves nailed to the ground. Me? I'm the exact same way, but you can add quicksand to the imagery. In other words, we are both stubborn -- very, very stubborn.

But since we both appreciate this reality, we're getting much better at arguing. We're better at diffusing the situation and saying, "Hey, you know what? I'm wrong. My bad. Let's be in love."

And one other very important rule has helped us argue the right way. The rule? Argue in the moment. Never bring up something from the past. It's not fair. 

For example, if we're arguing about Bridget and her cup-leaving tendencies, I can't say, "This is, like, the fourth time this month. You left the plate on the nightstand last week. You left a fork on the toilet 10 days ago. And you left a spoon in the cactus 13 days ago." Nope. Not fair. So, instead, "Hey, darling. Can you take care of this cup? It's been here for quite a while."

Is this technique fool-proof and perfect? Of course not. But it's served us well in the first 2+ years of our lives together and the first three months (BTW, Happy Anniversary, Bridget!) of our marriage.

Have a rule of arguing that you follow? Feel free to comment below ...

2 Years Down

Today is the 2 year anniversary of our first date. We remember so vividly because it was game 7 of the 2010 NBA finals (Celts lost. Boo.). Since this is the last year we’ll be celebrating this particular anniversary (3/31/12 will become the obligatory anniversary date from now on and I can’t remember more than one date. It's like a mental block.), I thought it was appropriate to sit down and look back on the past 2 glorious years of coupledom. 

I should point out that Mike hates the idea of celebrating anniversaries because he thinks it is forced and arbitrary. He dislikes milestone birthdays for the same reason. I’m from another school of thought. I appreciate these markers in time, however arbitrary they may be, because they provide an opportunity for reflection. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mike!

The last 2 years have been busy. We started dating, discovered we could stand each other, moved in together, got engaged, planned a wedding, and got married. Mike also changed jobs (twice!), became a pet owner, joined two new gyms, and discovered a love of Cambridge and hipster shoes (“They are just so comfortable,” he says in his defense). I started dabbling in grad classes, did a lot of traveling, and got bangs. 

Along the way, we’ve had some really great moments. Enjoying the best risotto of our lives in Boothbay harbor, eating seafood on the water in Newport, wine tastings in Sonoma, drinking pints of Guinness in Galway, and champagne in the middle of the street in Paris. 

But perhaps more memorable are the regular, day-to-day moments of our lives. Taking Oscar to Fresh Pond. Walking to Harvard Square to grab a drink or sit in Harvard Yard to read. Lying on our couch on a Sunday afternoon napping to the dulcet tones of golf. All the dinners at home, and the quick phone calls to check in, and the goodbye kisses before work. And the heated discussions and crossed-armed arguments (let’s be real, it ain’t all roses all the time). 

These years have passed quickly, and I’m told the pace will only pick up once we procreate and I become a soccer mom. But right now, this life we have is pretty great, and I hope we can enjoy being married and selfish for a little while longer.  

Last night we celebrated by going to one of our favorite restaurants and doing what we like best... sitting at the bar, having a beer, eating delicious breadsticks, and splitting a potato pizza. Oh, and talking. Mike commentating about golf, mostly, but also just chatting about our day and our lives and our future. I wish I could take last night and shove it in a time capsule and bury it in our backyard under the oak tree. But since I can’t do that, I hope that I can at least remember that feeling. The feeling of being newly-married, content, and full of potato pizza.