Here’s to another 40 years of not killing one another

This past week, my husband and I celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary: 16 years of wedded bliss, sweet 16. OK, maybe it’s more like 15 and a half years of wedded bliss and six months of fights, anger, grudges, cold stares, mumbled threats and plans for where to hide the body. Still, that’s a pretty great ratio.

Our celebration wasn’t exactly celebratory. Since he put in an 18-hour work day, our party consisted of, “Oh yeah, happy anniversary,” as he walked out the door at 4:15 a.m and then a similar remark as he walked back through the door at 10:30 p.m. We fought to stay awake for a quick toast, and then off to bed, my favorite place on earth.

Several people asked me why he didn’t take off of work for our special occasion. The short answer is, I told him not to. It wasn’t even the, “no, don’t take off work, it’s FINE,” that I would have delivered a decade ago. You know, the FINE that is anything but fine, and instead means: go ahead, you just do that thing you’re planning on doing. But don’t blame me if you have an unfortunate accident and really, you totally should NOT do it because I won’t speak to you for an undetermined amount of time. And you should know, if you really loved me, how long that time will be. Additionally, you should also know why I’m furious, though I won’t give you even the slightest hint. Seriously, it’s insulting to me as a woman, that you can’t understand why I’m hurt and what you did wrong (of course you were wrong). And I don’t plan to make direct eye contact, smile or acknowledge you in any way that isn’t sarcastic or demeaning until you have figured all of this out and issued a heartfelt apology, in which you make a complete allocution of your sins and do the dishes. And maybe some laundry.

No, I really meant it was fine, just fine, for him to work on our anniversary. I’ve been down this road a few times before and was totally ok with him pulling a double shift. The day doesn’t matter nearly as much as the sentiment behind it. It’s not like it’s the only day of the year that we have to let each other know how we feel.

My husband shows me he loves me when he rubs my feet at the end of the day, even though he’s just put in 12 hours at work. He says I love you when he gets home on a bitterly cold day and heads out to feed the pig so I don’t have to. He especially expresses his undying devotion when he puts the dirty laundry IN the hamper, not ON the hamper (this was a very difficult one, but he has, for the most part, mastered the skill). We share a quiet moment when we sit and watch the sun set together.

OK, that’s just ridiculous and a total lie. We never sit and watch the sun set. Who has that kind of time? And I’m not at all a romantic. I might comment on how lovely the evening sky looks, in its shades of purple and orange, as I’m passing by the window on my way to start a load of laundry, but that’s the extent of that silliness.

However, he does let me know he plans on sticking around another few years when he spends his Sunday in the kitchen with me, prepping meals for the coming week. Or when he cleans up after a sick dog, even though he only wanted the one four-legged beast and I coerced him into having three. And especially in the early days of motherhood, when Saturday afternoons often found him down at the beach with both kids, leaving me an hour or two to myself.

Then there was the decade plus that he busted his arse, five or six days a week, so that I could stay home to raise and educate our children. Where some spouses may have secretly harbored feelings of resentment (what does she do all day while I’m working like a dog??), he instead told me, no less then once a week for the past sixteen years, what an amazing job I was doing with the kids. Or what a great meal I had prepared. Or how nice the house looked, when really it looked like a toddler tornado had come and violated the living room.

So maybe he missed a day on the calendar that says we should love and honor one another. It really doesn’t matter when the majority of the other 364 days are spent laughing, teasing one another (again, not romantics over here), raising our amazing kids and being thankful, even if we don’t say it, for the things we do for each other. I’d much prefer eleven and a half months of my best friend, to one day of dead flowers, high-fructose-corn-syrup-laden chocolates and a lame Hallmark card that lets someone who never met us, try to define our marriage.

At a certain point in marriage, and I’m sure that point is different for everyone, you take stock of all the good things and lighten up on the bad. After all, no one ever said it was going to be easy. But if you put in the work, you can let the little things go and be thankful for all that is right in your world. So I’d like to wish my husband, who lets me abuse him in this space on a fairly regular basis, a very happy sweet 16. Here’s to another 40 years (give or take) of not killing one another.

I would’ve baked him a cake, but he’s not a real cake guy, so I plan to make these gluten free samoa knock-offs for our celebratory dinner, whenever that may be.

Samoas

I got this recipe from the minimalist baker. They are a little more work then the “minimalist” title implies, but they are so freaking good, it’s worth going the extra mile.

Ingredients
1 1/4 cup almond meal (finely ground raw almonds)
1 cup dark chocolate chips, chopped, divided
1/2 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 cup brown sugar + 2 Tbsp sugar
1 egg
3 Tbsp coconut oil, melted
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
caramel sauce (I use Trader Joe’s, but you can make your own with butter and sugar. Try this recipe: http://sallysbakingaddiction.com/homemade-salted-caramel-recipe/)

Instructions
Combine almond meal, 1/4 cup chocolate chips, coconut, baking powder, salt and sugars in a large bowl.
In a separate bowl, beat egg vigorously until nearly doubled in volume. Whisk in the coconut oil and vanilla, then add to dry ingredients and mix until just combined.
Chill in the fridge for 15-30 minutes, or overnight.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees and shape dough into small discs – about 15 cookies. Place on baking sheet, giving each cookie about 1-1/2 inches of room.
Bake until edges begin to brown, 10-13 minutes. You want them brown on the edges but not too dark overall.
Remove from oven, transfer to cooling rack and pop in fridge or freezer for 5 or so minutes. In the meantime, melt 3/4 cup chocolate chips in a microwave safe bowl in 15-20 second increments. Alternatively, melt over a double boiler.
Remove cookies from fridge or freezer and using a spoon, coat the bottom of each cookie in a thin layer of chocolate. Place back on silicon mat or wax paper and then drizzle with caramel sauce and remaining melted chocolate.
Refrigerate or freeze for another 5 minutes to set. Serve immediately or store in an airtight container for up to a couple days. Freeze for even longer freshness.

What’s your favorite anniversary memory? Share it with me at laurie@riverheadlocal.com.