Not so secret anniversaries

Today is the seventh anniversary of Karl and I's wedding, which means we've actually been married seven years, three months, and seven days. Like many military couples, we have two anniversaries - the day we signed our papers in what was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a ceremony, and the day we coordinated to have both our families in the same place while Karl was on leave so they could witness us saying vows while dressed in fancy clothes. Today is our fancy clothes anniversary.

Every night at dinner, we ask each other "dinner questions." I always ask "what was your favorite thing today?" Karl asks "what was the worst thing for you today?" Telling, no? Tonight, in honor of our anniversary, I asked "what was your favorite thing over the past seven years?" Karl asked about the worst thing of the past seven years. Our children modified their usual questions to span seven years too.

The best thing for me over the past seven years has been building traditions and creating a family rhythm out of nothing: the private jokes and slang we use, that would mean nothing to anyone but the four of us; the stocking stuffers I buy while I roll my eyes because I didn't realize I was starting a tradition when I first put Pez and Band-Aids in the kids' stockings. We created all of this together, the four of us, and it amazes me.

The worst thing for me over the past seven years was the discovery and grieving process of Karl's brain injury (today we were naming the months of the year and he skipped one). This is always the worst for me. I want to trade back in our comfortable finances and get the boy I met in high school back instead. The worst thing is each new thing he forgets. The worst thing was when he wouldn't get help. The worst thing was when I found him crouched behind the couch, waiting for me because he thought I was going to come after him. The worst thing is when he is not merely forgetful, but weird. The worst thing is when I am scared.

"What was the funniest thing for you?" is what our daughter asks. The funniest thing for me, over the past seven years, was when our daughter was born and she weighed over nine pounds. I didn't believe the doctor. Our daughter was born via c-section so even though I knew they had to use the vacuum (on a c-section baby! she was huge!), I didn't really have a feel for how big she was, but the doctor assured me that our daughter was, indeed, huge. We called her "big fat baby."

"Did anyone do anything nice for you today?" is what our eldest child asks, except today they asked if someone had done something nice for me in the past seven years. I told a story they don't remember, about one Christmas when we were still fighting the VA, still on food stamps, and a family adopted us because Karl is a veteran. That wasn't the nice part though. It is nice, but it's easy to go out and buy a few toys for someone. The nice part was that when we received the gifts, we also received handmade pillowcases for both our children. We were people.

Karl said the nicest thing someone had done for him in the past seven years was that I fought the VA for him.

It only took five years...