I’m delighted to welcome Stella Hervey Birrell to my blog today. This is a wonderful post- so I suggest getting comfortable for a few minutes- preferably with cake to hand.
Over to you Stella…
Finding True Love: Ten Years on.
This September will be ten years since the day I ‘pulled myself together for my lines,’ as someone drily commented on my wedding day. Tears had fallen while Mr HB pledged himself to me for life, but no way was I missing out on my turn to speak!
It will be ten years since my husband set his face to ‘sure’ as I completely blanked him on my way down the aisle (I wrote about this on the My Reading Corner Blog here). Ten years since my husband’s daughter floated around looking like a fairy, and my husband’s son looked a bit grumpy, but it was partly because his shoes were too tight.
Ten years since I put on a golden band.
Am I still in love?
Well, actually … a couple of things have happened recently.
I realise it’s only now, nearly ten years later, that I am even close to moving away from that ‘smitten-early-days’ fog. Like when I noticed that my husband is really stubborn – about nine months ago. I always wondered where the kids got it from.
I don’t think that it is a coincidence that he works away sometimes. If anyone was daft enough to ask me for advice on maintaining a healthy relationship, it would be this: make sure one or both of you has a job where you have to travel. Not a lot, but a little. Each meeting becomes a rekindling, a jolt of recognition … and someone else to brush the kid’s teeth, if he hasn’t timed his arrival to just after bedtime.
We’re older. Crikey, that’s an obvious thing to say. I suppose, what is perhaps slightly more interesting, is that I am now about the age he was, when we met. For the mathematically challenged amongst you, that means he’s older than me, by quite a bit, as I’m fond of reminding him.
I’ve become healthier, and he hasn’t. But he really, really won’t want me to talk about that. We have a mutual support thing that mostly works – until I decide I want a ‘day,’ and he’s already having a ‘day,’ and I go straight into full-on huffy ‘I never get to have a day when I’m the ill one’ mode.
See, maturity has nothing to do with age.
He has four children now, and I have two biological – washing powder kids I call them – and two that went to our wedding. I’ve got a new job – two, I suppose, I’m the main mean mommy when he’s four on.
But when he’s on four off, my job is tippity tapping away, making stuff up and then writing it down.
Our commitment has endured, in a way I never imagined I would experience. Ten years is a long time, and becoming a ‘writer’ is a big deal. It takes a lot out of family time, and I do not take it lightly that he is only too happy to make up the shortfall.
After a lifetime of Mr Wrongs, Mr Right, who became Mr HB (his preference, and based on my pen-name) is still my chosen person. He’s still my best bet when I need to pull myself together, and pull out some lines.
Many thanks for such a great blog Stella (and Mr HB!)
Happy reading everyone,