Happy Hour Friday

I'm following Otin's lead and posting some Friday happiness.

I'm happy that people are still reading this blog, even though I haven't posted in days!

I'm happy that Sara without an h got her SITS day

I'm happy that Dear Mr. Man is back to blogging again

I'm happy that all 3 of my children managed to get through their winter performances at school without falling off stage, starting a fight, or wetting their pants.

I'm happy that I managed to stay cool during the entire performance even though William was touching me - holding my hand, rubbing my neck, tickling the inside of my arm and I really wanted to throw him on the floor and jump on top of him. but I didn't because I know it damage my kids if we were hauled out of our kids' school in handcuffs. (If only we still lived in my hometown and the performance were in my high school, I would have know a few closets we could of hid out in!)

I'm happy that I've never ever gotten a ticket for any 'out and about' adventures (though I was caught and questioned 2x)

I'm happy our heater is working (but sad we're not sneaking home in the middle of the day to check the heat)

I'm happy we're going to abandon the kids at the movie theatre this weekend so we can make out in the car, go shopping, make out in the car, go shopping, make out in the car, go shopping. Okay we haven't exactly figured out what we're doing when the kids are at the movies with their grandparents (I love my inlaws!) but it will be some combination of shopping and kissing!

The Happiness Average

This situation happened years ago, but I still think about it from time to time.

I was working in a large hospital on the medical-surgical floor and the husband of one of my patients phoned repeatedly with questions about flowers.

Patient’s husband call 1: Can I bring flowers to my wife.
Me: yes

Patient’s husband call 2: Are there certain flowers I’m not allowed to bring?
Me: bring any flowers you like.

Patient’s husband call 3: I’ve got the florist on hold, are roses okay?
Me: Roses are GREAT!

Patient’s husband call 4: Is there a limit to the number of flowers? Can I bring a lot?
Me: Bring as many as you like
Thinking - just quit calling and let me get to work (!)

Well, he showed up with 50 -yes, FIFTY- big red roses. Standing by his recovering wife’s side he said, “Today we’re celebrating 50 happy years of marriage, and---“
She elbowed him, interrupting. “We are NOT!”
He went on “50 happy years and that’s not a bad average out of 53.”
She looked at me, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We’ve been married 53 years.” She studied the clock. “In two hours and twenty minutes it will be exactly 53 years.”

But I knew what he was talking about. He didn’t deny the 53 years, but said that 50 of them were happy and that “wasn’t a bad average.”

I don’t know what a “good average” is, but three years seems like a lot of unhappy days. I know marriage is built on good times and bad times and helping each other through the worst times.

This man with his massive bouquet of roses really reminded me to do my best to make every day of my marriage full of love. Because those days add up to weeks and months and years.

When William and I hit 53 years, I hope we’re celebrating 52+ years of happiness!