Happy Anniversary to Me!

In case you're wondering, number fourteen is the storm door anniversary.

We've never been big romantics, Eric and I -- perhaps because our first child was a honeymoon baby, so therefore we've never really had a romantic anniversary. Anniversary one was spent with my in-laws, several other relatives and a screaming baby. (We were in transit to a foreign assignment, and decided to christen the baby on our first anniversary -- at my in-laws house, of all things.) I celebrated our second anniversary during an Army medevac to Germany from Eastern Europe, due to premature labor. (Yes, by our second anniversary I was eight months pregnant with our second child.) Since my husband was still in Eastern Europe and I was there with a one year old, there was no celebration. Third anniversary? Kind of a similar pattern. As an Army wife, I can count on one hand the number of occasions we've actually been together in the same place for an anniversary.

We'll be celebrating this one with my MIL, who arrives at noon today. Eric and I did, however, get to have a romantic cup of coffee together this morning on the porch -- before the mayhem sets in. (Just to make things REALLY interesting, a friend's child was removed from the Boy Scout camp in our area that was closed down due to the swine flu outbreak on Monday. So when our youngest spiked a fever last night, we went into full panic mode. Is it swine flue? What if it is? Can we cancel the MIL's trip? what about the boy who's being dropped at music camp on Saturday? What about the retirement ceremony tomorrow? What about the horde of revelers due to arrive for a barbecue on the same day? Thankfully, the child appears to be fine -- but there's nothing like a little panic to start off your day.)

Anyway, my husband told me something different this morning. I suppose you're always amazed when someone tells you something about themselves that you didn't know, particularly when you've been married for 14 years (or as a friend from our church group phrases it, "the seven year itch times two.") In this case, Eric revealed that he's never really liked being the center of attention, and that's why he never seeks out leadership positions in the community and so forth. That's why he's being such a bear (I think) about the ceremony tomorrow. I found myself wondering to what degree that's cultural -- his grandma survived the Armenian genocide and she lived with them while the kids were growing up. The first stage of the genocide was the part where they rounded up all the prominent people, all the political leaders and all the intellectuals -- perhaps the lesson he learned was "don't stand out. Fly under the radar. Get A's but not the top grades. Don't draw attention to yourself." It explains a certain amount about his personality. He more or less said that he gets nervous, feeling that if you're recognized by your community, then you're more likely to wind up on somebody's radar and lose it all. It's a strange sentiment, and one I'm not altogether familiar with. (Actually, I have this weird idea that he's secretly been attending some form of therapy, because every once in awhile he comes up with these insights that don't sound like him. Isn't that odd? And I notice him utilizing these weird coping techniques when I get out of joint about his mom, like AGREEING WITH ME, which he's never done before. Weird how you can know someone and not know them, you know?)