Love Looks Like Maybe
Ryan, your love looks like...
pouring your curated craft liquors down the drain
ordering Rachel Held Evan’s book
scooping kitty litter and braving Costco on a Saturday
meeting with a Life/Dad coach
learning to regulate your emotions and reframing narratives with kids
refinancing the mortgage, consolidating car payments
taking out the trash and setting the coffee
sneaking in late night workouts
planning a trip to the Olympic Trials, learning all the gymnasts’ names (Go Mykayla!), and immediately watching replays in the hotel room
organizing a trip to visit friends in Idaho
foregoing a trip to visit friends so I could fly last minute to my grandmama’s funeral
encouraging me in AA
hiding the BMI scale
reaching out to your people
sharing my blog posts
building me a new website (coming soon!)
re-engaging after tough interactions
stacks of crustless peanut butter sandwiches
a Pielogy box with my name on it
preschool drop offs with the threenager
quesadillas and gyro meat sizzling on the skillet
shoestring fries and dino nuggets humming in the airfryer
his and hers yodels (IYKYK)
Dada “nuggles”
calling the kids downstairs when I’m trying to finish a workout in peace
scheduling family photoshoots--and enduring them!
binging Dexter and Top Chef and Ted Lasso
cringing with me at Covid misinformation videos
waking up at 3am to watch Simone
printing family calendars for the grandparents
designing the yearly Christmas cards
willingly participating in a child dedication where the five-year-old crawled around on the stage and the three-year-old grabbed my crotch during your heartfelt prayer
giving grace when I’m angry, critical, self-righteous
saying I’m sorry
saying I love you to the toddler who screams and stomps at your mere presence
saying nothing and everything with your hand on my shoulder
saying great! to my decision not to cover up my gray hairs
saying I’ll pick up Aidan, I’ll run to the store, I’ll give you some quiet
***
Love even looks like saying *Maybe* when I want to know if I’m fat, failing, defective.
Love looks like refusing to feed my OCD cycle with reassurance. When asked if I look fat, I want you—no, need you–to answer Maybe.
And though you are an Enneagram 9, a peacemaker, a non-rocker-of-boats and follower of Unspoken Rules of Men Everywhere, you do say Maybe, and we move forward together.
***
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Love Looks Like”.
