I have to tell you that I originally wrote this post yesterday (and it was brilliant! Brilliant, I say!) but it was sucked into the black hole of the internet by some kind of freak keystroke error, so here's my second, less brilliant shot. Boo.
It's funny how things change over the years. It's even funnier how they stay exactly the same. Marcus and I are still essentially newlyweds, but we have a ten-year history together, so sometimes the past peeks around a corner and reminds us of where we came from. Back then when we were just starting to "spark" as we say in the south, we were so pre-occupied with things that seem so trivial now. He would always make sure his long hair was freshly washed when he knew he'd be seeing me because he knew I liked the smell of his shampoo. I would wear green a lot because it's his favorite color (even though it does NOTHING for my skin tone). When living in NY, Marcus would do sweet things like making sure I had an umbrella or a metro card and I'd make sure the fridge was stocked with Coca-Cola and sharp cheddar cheese. When I was pregnant, he would take me to the diner at 11pm to satisfy a craving for a reuben, which must have disgusted him. (Ever seen a pregnant woman devour sauerkraut in the middle of the night? It ain't pretty.) I once chopped olives for him. I HATE olives. But he loves them and I love him, so there ya go. Since Dean's come along, we've become quite the team of care-takers and playmates.
Yesterday, Dean was sick. He had a cough and some sinus drainage and was really lethargic all day. He woke up from one of many naps and I tried to feed him a little lunch. He didnt' really eat much, so I put him on my lap on the couch and gave him a couple of Cheerios. Marcus had just made his lunch and was sitting down next to us to eat. Suddenly without warning, Dean started vomitting. I've never seen a baby throw up like that. It JUST KEPT COMING. It poured out of him over and over. And you don't even get the courtesy of a gag. It JUST KEEPS COMING. On me, on the couch, all over the place. Marcus calmly set his sandwich aside and ran for a towel, while it JUST KEPT COMING all over me. He put Dean in the bathtub and got him cleaned up while I peeled my clothes off and cleaned the couch. (thank GOD we got the microfiber sofa!) Once things had calmed down, I went into the bathroom to check on Dean and Marcus turned around, met my eyes and flashed me a smile. There I stood, half dressed, covered in baby vomit and sporting a nasty cold sore on my lip (YOW) and there he sat soaked with bath water, little baby hands clinging to his collar and hair, yet we were giving each other the same look as we have so many times before. It's that smile that reminds me how much he "gets it." He understands exactly what I'm thinking so much of the time and all it takes is that look to let me know we are on the same wavelength. I saw it when we were dating and it told me "I think you're cool." I saw it on our wedding day and it said "I'm so happy you're my wife." I saw it when I was in labor and it said "I wish I could take away the pain." (fortunately the epidural man took care of that one.) I saw it the first time we held Dean and it said "Look at what we have!" And I saw it yesterday. It said "Wow, baby vomit is gross. And there's some in your hair."
I'm sure we have many vomit-filled days in our future, not to mention other nasty things. It's so comforting to know that we can look through the sludge and still see each other.