It's been a while, I know. My creative urges have been heading in the direction of knitting silver yarn to look like chain mail, for the Boy, altering a ball gown for my friend so it would fit over her nursing breasts and she could wear it to the Marine ball. Which I guess is prom all over again for military wives. And finishing slings, and trying to keep up with nablopomo at my other blog, the real food revolution. So you know, I suddenly look up and realize that it's been weeks and I have this back log of stuff to say. This Friday's small joy's are brought to you/me, mostly by my husband.
It's often frustrating being the spouse of an insomniac. Mine in particular has the hardest time
falling asleep, and stays awake all night staring at things and wishing he could sleep. Or lying in bed fidgeting and feeling irrationally angry at all of the peacefully sleeping people around him for being able to do what he can't. It's frustrating because I find myself staying up later and later to hang out with him, even though I am wrecked in the morning because of it. It's frustrating in the mornings to have him lumplike if asleep, and surly and irresponsive or in a tired daze, if awake. Oh, and did I mention the crankiness that not sleeping well causes him, and me when he keeps me up late to talk and I don't notice the time until, whoops, it's 2 am again, crap. Oh, and he has this habit of using our entire house as his own personal clothes horse. I just love finding his big shoes and stinky socks and random changes of clothing lying around in the living room. I guess that doesn't have much to do with insomnia does it? It's still irritating though.
It's not all bad though. When I need a proof reader and someone to bounce ideas off of at 1am, he's there and he's good at it. And I like cuddling in bed as much as the next person, until the fidgets start to keep me awake, and then I need to move over. I like being with him, I just don't find 2 am the ideal time to do that. Call me crazy.
One night not too long ago I woke up and rolled over and there he was, wide awake, watching me as I slept. (If I weren't married to him I suppose that might be creepy and stalkerish. But instead I thought it was sweet and romantic.) I sleepily reached out and touched his cheek. "I really like you," he whispered, so as not to wake the Baby, and then I held his hand and drifted back to sleep again while he looked on.
It's good to feel loved. There is such comfort in that moment.
Marriage is a lot of choosing to stick with it even when it's hard, to forgive, even when you've been hurt, of staying, even when it seems easier to leave. It's sometimes knowing that the person with whom you coexist doesn't always like you that much, even if they choose to love you and stay with you. Like is a feeling. Love is a choice. A marriage can work without like, but oh it's nice on occasion to feel treasured and liked again. I'm storing up this one against the hard days.