Several years ago, on this Valentine’s week at the mom’s group that I attended,
one of the mothers stood up and reminded us all to dig deep and try, as the day came near,
to remember not to set our expectations too high.
To not focus on the things they don’t do,
but to, instead, try to look at our partner’s everyday moves towards love.
Even the ones that were at first hard to see.
That truth burrowed in deep.
Expectations can be a real struggle for me.
It stayed with me,
and today when I awoke thinking about the week,
I smiled remembering a time when we were dating that Justin and I went to a big super-bowl party.
Hundreds of people milled around as I stood to take my turn at the karaoke machine,
and only I knew I had purposefully picked the very romantic song, “At Last” by Etta James,
to sing directly at him.
I stood at the mic.
My heart beat out of my chest,
but I looked at him the whole time and sang the words that I fully meant in every deep, and personal way.
“At last, my love has come along…”
Except that the whole time I sang,
and made that burrowing attempt at eye contact that I was making,
he talked, and casually looked around laughing and acting like I wasn’t even busy up there bearing my soul.
I left the stage hurt, and confused about his response;
Mad, even, and asked him why,
when hundreds of people had seemed riveted by my song,
and I had even taken the $500 prize,
he had still looked like he just somehow couldn’t tap in.
That is when my beloved said the words that I will for all of my days never forget:
“I don’t know.
I guess I’ve just never gotten why a song about a lost underwater world was supposed to be romantic.”
*record scratch*
It was then that I realized it…
“Wait.
Did you think I was saying
‘ATLANTIS, my love has come along?!”
I couldn’t even conceive of it.
How could this be real, actual life?
Atlantis, my lonely days are over?!
Except,
“Yeah,” he said.
“Isn’t that the song?”
That moment in history –
That room, his innocent shocked expression, my feelings bred from frustration have all led to YEARS of laughter for us in hindsight.
That blip in time something that is brought up regularly as our own personal joke.
“Atlantis” has become our song.
Right next to “Rock the Cat’s Paw” (Rock the Casbaugh) and “Move My Jacket” (Moves Like Jaggar), all for similar reasons.
Every time we hear it we smile, knowingly,
and it reminds us still that sometimes the things we perceive about one another can be so deceiving, even now.
It has been 17 years since that day.
17 years of sometimes trying to catch each other’s gaze and failing.
17 years of one of us (mostly him) staring off into space.
17 years of misunderstanding each other’s lyrics.
My husband does not always bring me flowers.
He does not write sappy cards full of words he feels pressured to come up with.
We rarely dance in pale moonlight.
There has been far less sweeping off my feet than I thought that there would be;
But today I choose to recognize the way my love moves towards me in small ways I am more able to see because I remember to not let my expectations get too high.
Maybe he remembered to bring home my blood pressure medication.
Maybe he sprayed dog poop off of the kids’ rain boots so that I wouldn’t have to.
Maybe he ignored my day three yoga pants.
Maybe he stepped in at bedtime because he saw that I was getting too stressed.
Maybe he memorized my Starbucks order and brought it to me without asking.
This week focused on the fairy tale version of love can tend to highlight all the things that are lacking in our relationships.
Maybe they actually ARE a lost underwater world…
Maybe it has not been a a big, unbroken kind of love,
but instead, more a mosaic kind
formed of a million tiny pieces laid out together to reveal the truth that when I lay down my expectations –
Atlantis,
My love really did come along.
This article was written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
