http://scrogginsirelandtrip.shutterfly.com/pictures
Fifteen Years.
My husband and I are celebrating our fifteenth wedding anniversary next week, and while I’m impressed when I read about fiftieth wedding celebrations, I have to admit, I’m equally proud of our little milestone. We married young. In fact, I often joke that we married when we were only twelve years old. We didn’t, of course, but that’s when we met. He befriended me when I was the New Girl, and I let him cheat off me during Spelling Tests (which he still denies to this day). We settled in as friends and rode the roller coaster of high school, complete with its ups, downs, highs, lows, fast turns, and even faster plunges. It was bumpy, but we were always in the same car, and headed the same direction.
When we announced our engagement, people smiled sweetly and said things like, “of course you’re engaged,” or “we knew it would happen,” along with, “it was just a matter of time.” At first we were surprised by the familiarity of people’s responses, because as it happened, it really was news to us. After some time, we began to see ourselves through their eyes, and realized with certainty what had been right in front of us since the day we met.
As college student newlyweds, we searched for free entertainment, and found it in camping, fishing, cooking, and the occasional road tripping when we were feeling rich and adventurous. We became expert road trippers and travelers, always planning and hoping for the next weekend, the next city, or the next National Park—there was one REALLY big road trip in there. It became a part of Us, a part of the Story of Us, and when we became parents, a part we hoped to share with our children.
We entered the grown up workforce together, and each year were faced with new challenges and hurdles. And, as it turns out, marriage is not all wine and roses. It’s actually a TON of work. And talking. LOTS of talking. And planning. SO MUCH planning. Then there’s talking of the planning, which really when it’s all said and done is just WORK. With all this work, it feels so easy to lose touch with Us, and our Story. We’re on a different roller coaster these days, one with different twists and turns and its miles and miles and miles long. Just when I think I know the pattern of the ups and downs, we turn abruptly to the left and I’m left breathless all over again. We’ve worked, talked, and planned through five moves, seven jobs, and three children.
And that was just the first fifteen years.
To celebrate, my husband surprised me with a trip to Ireland—just Us. My family has Irish roots, and we both have always been intrigued with retracing those generational steps. It was one of those things on the “someday plan.” But not something I expected now, at this part in Our Story. A trip like this is something we would have talked about, planned for, and worked toward. I was stunned, surprised, excited, and then a little guilt ridden. We will be leaving the children for seven full days, and we will be putting an entire ocean between them and us. An ocean. Of water. On top of the entire ocean, our international communication will be subpar at best. I will be inconsistently available to talk, to check in, or to blow kisses through the phone. I am not sure I even know how to pack the kids for when I leave the country. I’ve thought about it all summer, and made plans accordingly. I have a document giving the grandparents notarized consent to take them to any emergency room available—with my youngest, I feel certain they will need it. I plan to pack their bags with some extra tender loving care, maybe stash a few love notes and tokens for them to find throughout the week. We’ve enlisted family to give them a fun week of activities, and my hope is that they are so busy they don’t event notice the ocean between us. Seven days seems like an eternity to not see them, to hug them, and to tuck them into their beds. Plus, I worry they will have horrible manners, fight, whine, cry, or throw fits; they will probably have to be reminded to brush their teeth, hair, and when to flush; they will get annoying, loud, and even louder. It’s a lot to ask, and by the end, we might have used up all our credits with family babysitting.
It feels strange to be leaving the kids behind for this adventure, to be excluding them from this extreme road trip. They are falling in love with the fun of packing a suitcase, throwing it in the car, and seeing what lies ahead just like Us. But then, that was what we hoped to do with all that talking, planning and working, right? We hoped to show them a part of Us as we built this little family unit. We hoped they would share our same loves, and grow with us as we braced ourselves for the next turn. I have no idea how I will feel when I set my eyes upon the church where my great grandparents married, but I can imagine I will want to know more about Their Story, and could it too have started with the New Girl in school and the boy who needed help in spelling.
