9.5

Recently I changed my name from Bedwell to Magnusson. It only took right at 9.5 years, and I finally had to do it in order to get an Arkansas license. (And that only took me almost 4 years to get around to!)

In June we'll be celebrating 10 years of wedded something-or-other, and I think now is a good time to examine where exactly a typical marriage (assuming that's what ours is) lies at 10 years.

A few observations:

Going to the bathroom with the door shut is rare. I don't know if that's a function of having toddlers or being very comfortable with one another. Either way, I was recently shocked to find some things behind the bathroom door because it is so rarely shut. I'd been missing that earring for so long that now I don't know where its mate is. Oh well.

We can have a private conversation in Magwellese, which is a language only we understand. It's based on English and 10 years of shared history, mainly ridiculous arguments and misunderstandings turned inside jokes. Ask Ryan how I feel about origami or five dollar model airplanes if you want to see him laugh.

We've accidentally settled into roles over time. I'm the public face of the family, and Ryan is the silent power player. I make the plans, the jokes, the friends. He makes the money, has veto power over the plans and friends, and squirms when I open my mouth in front of other people. I think we both secretly prefer it this way, even if it just kind of happened.

I know that when Ryan is sick, he wants me to leave him alone. He knows that when I'm sick, I want to be fussed over. So, basically, when he's sick, I make him miserable with pampering. When it's my turn, he leaves me alone, which makes me sad. We're an awesome team!

Some things get better with time, and others don't. For instance, it used to drive Ryan crazy when I would soak dirty dishes before washing them. He called it "marinating" because I'd go do something else, forget the dishes and not want to stick my hand into the water after it had gotten cold. I've stopped doing that, and it's better. It used to make me nuts that Ryan would leave his shoes and socks wherever he decided to take them off, even if he took one off in one room and the other off somewhere on the other side of the house. That didn't get better. He still does it, but now he uses a really great foot lotion, so if he takes a sock off next to a giant pile of laundry I may or may not have left for folding "later," I'm not offended. I can safely give it the sniff test, and if it's a dirty, it will smell like peppermint. Isn't cohabitation wonderful?

In 10 years, romance may have become crippled, but the practicality that takes its place has its own charm. Here's a conversation we had recently:

J: Hey, it's late. I'm going to bed, and I was thinking. . . .
R: You're really subtle.
J: Well, do you need me to be subtle?
R: No, but I've been working on my car, and I smell like gas even though I showered.
J: Oh. Bummer.
R: Yeah, I was thinking I may actually sleep on the couch so you don't have to smell me.
J: How bad do you smell?
R: Oh, well, I actually thought you'd say you wouldn't mind.
J: Huh? I don't want to smell you.
R: Wow. We've been married a long time.
J: Sorry.

Finally, and I think I might have mentioned this before, I have lost all my manipulative powers. If I want Ryan to do something or share an opinion of mine he may not otherwise share, I have to be straightforward, honest, and genuinely persuasive. Pouting, flirting, and making promises no longer work to my advantage. Threatening to write unflattering stories on my blog used to give me a little bit of leverage, but since I rarely write anything nowadays, that doesn't work either.

So, yeah, that's us nearly 10 years in.

It's ok to be a little jealous.