Love and marriage: 30 years, 30 reasons

When Jim and I got married, we were oh-so young, with nearly all odds against us.

That was 30 years ago today.

In honor of our thirtieth wedding anniversary, here are 30 reasons why I think our marriage has lasted—despite the odds, statistics, and predictions:

1. We still celebrate our first-kiss anniversary.

2. When one of us says, "Isn't that the one guy from not that one show but the other one, you know, with that woman we don't like who was in that scary movie, but he's put on a lot of weight since the movie where he was a jerk?", the other one totally gets it...and answers with the actor's name.

3-5. Brianna, Megan, Andrea.

6. We love each other's moms as much as we love our own.

7. I'm willing to go to a Randy Travis concert with him; he's willing to go see Chris Cornell with me.

8. We agree that Flight of the Conchords is funny as <cuss>.

9. And that Saturday Night Live isn't anymore.

10-11. Bubby and Mac.

12. We don't share a bathroom. Or use the bathroom at the same time when we have no choice but to share (like when vacationing).

13. We don't share bank accounts or credit cards either.

14. We do, though, share a mortgage—and the agreement that despite our mortgage doubling when we bought our current house, soon followed by both of us losing our jobs and economic <cuss> reigning ever since, we love our home and it's totally worth it.

15. We agree that if stranded on a desert island with only one album, we'd want it to be Pearl Jam's Ten.

16. We have a spare room available for when insomnia, snoring or restless legs get to be too much for the sleepy non-snorer.

17. In the heat of rage-filled moments, we don't call each other nasty names that can't be taken back. (At least not out loud.)

18. We agree that if when we win the lottery, our moms come first when doling out the dough and that gifts of even amounts will be given to all our siblings, despite a couple of them deserving nothing.

19. I cook, he cleans up after. (Okay...I usually help, just to keep him company).

20. We both clean up after entertaining—and agree that it must be done immediately upon guests leaving, not in the morning, no matter how late the entertaining may have ended or how tired we may be.

21. When one of us screws up our finances—because, despite separate accounts, we are indeed joint—neither one lays blame. (At least not out loud.)

22. We agree a house is not a home without pets. And that those pets shall never again be birds or fish or more than two dogs and two cats at one time.

23. He patiently waits until I compose myself when I get verklempt and can't talk, whether it's when discussing a terminal family member or an unexpectedly delightful package delivery.

24. A few hours into the stonewalling after a disagreement, one of us will apologize—even if we know <cuss> well we're not at fault—just so we'll be friends again.

25. That third strand in our marriage cord stayed strong and kept us together when the other two strands, at various times, frayed, gave up or broke completely.

26. We agree that it's sometimes okay to hit the sack before the news. Or to stay up late on a weeknight because we must see what happens next on a series we're streaming through Netflix.

27. We agree that the majority of Christmas gifts should be opened on Christmas morning, not Christmas Eve.

28. We have similar stranger-than-fiction-and-Jerry-Springer families and histories few others would understand...or believe.

29. We take pride in owning—and aren't willing to pass to others—the title of Longest Married Couple In Our Families (even longer than our older siblings and our parents).

30. We grew up together. Like two intertwined saplings that grow together into big, strong—though entangled—trees, if you try to separate them, one or both will surely die. Or so I've convinced him.

Happy anniversary, Jim. Here's to 30 more years and 30 more reasons!

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

The key to a successful relationship is _________.

First crushes

It saddened me to find out Davey Jones had passed away. He was the first star I ever had a real crush on. (Though Tom Jones was a close second, I must admit.) Unfortunately, I have no posters from the past to remember him by. In all honesty, I don't think I was even old enough to have posters on my bedroom wall at the time that I swooned over Davey.

While Davey may have been my first celebrity crush, my first forever crush was on someone else. I do, thankfully, have a poster of him:

That is my own personal rock star.

That is Jim.

Husband to me. Dad to my amazing daughters. PawDad to my awesome grandsons.

That's Jim as he looked 31 years ago, when I very first crushed on him.

The groovy colors weren't part of the original photo, of course.

I added those yesterday.

Because I still have a crush on him.

And crushes make you do crazy things.

And because I wanted a groovy photo to add to his birthday post.

Today is Jim's birthday.

Thirty-one years later, Jim is still my rock star.

Thirty-one years later, Jim is still my one and only forever crush.

Happy birthday, Jim.

The voting continues: If you liked this post—or Grandma's Briefs in general—please vote for Grandma's Briefs in the About.com Favorite Grandparent Blog poll. Vote once per day through March 21. Thank you!

Today's question:

What posters or pictures did you have on your bedroom wall as a teen?

Love manners and matters

When I was a child, I rated my affection for something based on one question: Did I love it more than I loved my mom? To me, love was a hierarchy, and Mom was firmly and forever at the top.

Sure, I loved macaroni and cheese, I loved mashed potatoes, I loved listening to the Bay City Rollers and wearing my ever so stylish elephant pants. But did I love those things more than Mom? Not even close.

I soon started applying the same question to people. I loved my sixth-grade teacher, but not more than Mom. I loved my BFF, but not more than Mom. I even thought I loved a boy or two, but certainly not more than Mom. (Their failing the test, I now see, was truly a blessing for me.)

Then came Jim. I soon learned a very important lesson: My love test was silly, my love test was naive. Love isn't a matter of degree, I realized, it's a matter of manner, and I loved Jim in a far different manner than I loved my mom. Not more, not less, just different.

Yes, I loved my mom, but I sure didn't want to spend the rest of my life with her. I did, though, want to spend the rest of my life with Jim. Fortunately he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, too. So we married. And had kids.

When the first baby was born, there was the struggle of coming to terms with the fact—for Jim and for me—that the manner of baby love was such that it required more attention, more nurturing, more time than anything else in our world. It wasn't a matter of loving the baby more than Jim, though it took a while to convince him of that.

When the second baby was set to arrive, I had to convince myself that I wouldn't love my first more than the second. I had yet to learn how much the heart expands with each child. The lesson was confirmed when that second baby arrived. And again when the third baby arrived.

Again and again I've learned—and did my best to teach—that each and every one of those loves of my life were loved the very most I could possibly love, just all in a different manner. I've never loved one child more than another; they're loved in manners befitting them. Sure, there were—and continue to be—days when one drives me more batty than another, but that has nothing to do with love. I love them all fully, love them all completely. I just love my oldest daughter in a manner far different than the second, which is far different than the third. I like to think, and continue to hope, that the manner in which I love them is the manner in which they need, deserve, love in return.

If you're a mother, you get that.

When I learned I'd be a grandmother, though, I clearly didn't get it. Not fully. I wasn't sure I could love my grandchild as much as I loved my children. How, how, how could I, I wondered, when I loved my girls so fully and completely?

Again the matter of manners came into play. The manner in which I love my first grandson is so very different than the manner in which I love his mom...and his aunts. No one more, no one less, all of them different.

Which made it easier when my second grandson came along. I now fully and completely love him, too, yet in a manner so different from how I love his brother.

It's been more than thirty years since I first learned the lesson that love isn't a hierarchy or a matter of degrees, that it's a matter of manners. My love has grown to encompass so many in that time. I love my grandsons. I love my daughters. And I love my cats, my dogs, my house, my home. I do still love macaroni and cheese, too, and do still love potatoes. The Bay City Rollers? Well, not so much anymore.

Through all the additions, though, I still love my mom.

And I still truly and deeply love Jim.

And despite all that we've been through in our decades together, all the other manners—and the oft-heartbreaking matters—that have been thrown into the mix, I do still want to spend the rest of my life with him.

All of my manners of love matter, but today, that is the manner that matters the most.

Happy Valentines Day!

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What love manners and matters are on your mind today?

The Saturday Post: Jim, Jimmy & Elvis edition

I'm in the desert and although I'm loving my time with Bubby and Mac, I wish only that Jim had been able to join us. So this one's about Jim. For Jim. Because, as Bubby says, we don't want PawDad to feel "alonely" while Gramma's away.

I hope this video of the <cuss> earworm my husband inflicted me with before I left song Jim's been singing the last few days will let him know we're all thinking of him.

And I hope everyone else will appreciate this brief glimpse into the wackiness otherwise known as My Life With Jim. Just imagine him twanging it up singing this tune. It happens. Often. Quite often. I usually groan when he starts it up; today I sort of miss it...and Jim. (All together now: "Awwww...!")

Feel a little less alonely now, PawDad? Bubby and I hope so!

Today's question:

What Jimmy Buffet song(s) do you know all the lyrics to?