Sunday was our seventh anniversary. And since we got married on this side of the dateline, it actually was seven exact years. Seven happy years.
Yesterday we were officially launched into our eighth year, and I was so relieved to find that we’d already finished our seventh year, because I’d been wigged out by all these voices of mature foreboding, telling of the Seven Year Slump.
Well, sure, it was a great slump, and now we’re on to the next round.
I am now able to cross off #13 on my list of 28 things to do in my 28th year. We spent our honeymoon anniversary in the same place we spent our honeymoon. We had requested the same room (#438), but they were redoing the fourth floor, so we were reassigned up three floors. Seventh floor for seven years. Fitting.
We were alone together for more than three hours for the first time in 5 years, 27 days. (Since Lia’s birth). I was away from my children for the longest time since each of them was born. And we survived. And it was wonderful.
We walked on the beach, swam in the pool, watched the sunset, watched a movie, ate a delicious buffet brunch and a delicious celebratory chocolatey dessert. I took four baths, two showers, with candles (thanks Mom!). And we spent a long long time talking about the last seven years, how we’ve changed, looking at pictures on the computer, having our annual marriage evaluation discussion. On our balcony overlooking the ocean.
The only slight cloud on the horizon was that I never fully relaxed because I was so eager to MAKE THE MOST of our time away. But I was relaxed enough to enjoy myself thoroughly, so I’m holding no grudges.
On my mom’s side, everything went very well with the children. They went caroling, baked sugar cookies, watched movies, and hardly missed us at all. Levi gave her a bit of a scare by drinking half of my milk supply before 6pm. But luckily Liana’s bellchoir was playing that evening at our hotel, so we just dropped some more milk off with them to take home. They came before check out time to see our room and we all drank a toast of Martinelli’s to celebrate.
Because even though I didn’t cry when we left our children behind, and I was able to not really worry about them or think about them too much…my body did. The night of uninterrupted sleep didn’t really materialize due to an overabundance of milk.
I was sitting in my hot, luxurious bath Sunday morning, the balcony door was open and I could hear the ocean and feel the soft breeze, the candles were lit. And as I sat there with my milk pump, I suddenly came to my senses and chuckled. With a bit of a snort.