By the time husbands and wives have been married as long as Brett and I have, they fall into a predictable routine in which they can almost certainly tell what the other will do in any given situation. They begin to read the other like a well-loved book, savoring and loving each good paragraph as well as skimming those that are, shall we say, less than stellar. Yes, marriage can be like that old classic novel that you tuck away and read in the moments you need inspiration, validation and encouragement...at least mine is. And although there are those exhilarating moments, there are some that are less than exhilarating and you know, I'm grateful for every one of them.
I know that Brett hates driving around aimlessly, even though it's one of my favorite things to do...take a drive. I know that he loves to watch that PBS program, "Alone in the Wilderness," over and over again and I know that if I watch it with him I will surely fall asleep, no Tylenol PM needed. He knows that I can't stand to have my feet rubbed and that I love anything vanilla, lemon or sun dried tomato flavored. After being married for 12 years and being together nearly 20, we just know these things.
He knows that when I am sleepy, I get talkative. Like, really, really talkative. So much so that you may want to stuff socks in my mouth to shut me up if you are the lucky one on the end of my sleepy, talkative rants (my friends who have spend weekends with me can attest to this too). It never fails, we will crawl into bed after a busy day and he's ready to close his eyes and drift off into a loud (snoring), yet quick sleep. I, on the other hand, want to solve the world's problems, re-arrange my furniture and talk about the best way to cook a chicken.
Thankfully, with all this knowledge about each other, we also have come to a place where we can just tell it like it is. When I'm talking up a blue streak, he gently places a hand on my shoulder and he doesn't even have to say a word. I look at him and say, "I know - I'm sorry." He smiles, rolls over and goes to sleep. And I talk to myself in my head about how I'm going to cook that chicken tomorrow night for dinner.
Katie likes to sleep with me when Brett is working at the firestation. I don't mind, really. She has learned to mostly keep her knees out of my ribs and her feet off of my legs. You could say that she and I have gotten used to each other much in the way her father and I have over the years. We know what to expect, and that's kind of a nice feeling.
The other night, I tucked her into her Dad's side of the bed and read her a story - I Love You Stinky Face. After sprinkling her forehead with the invisible magic sprinkles that help you sleep, she began.
"Mom, I have the greatest idea!"
"Mom, you know those shoes I have with the lights in them? Well..."
"Mom, when I grow up and have babies I am going to live in a tent and all my babies are going to live in the tent with me and..."
I smoothed my hand over her forehead and leaned in to kiss it yet again.
"I know Mom, I'm talking too much."
I didn't say a word. I just smiled and told her goodnight before turning the light out.