Gindi Vincent

The Dish on Career, Fashion, Faith, and Family

Marriage

The Surprise Getaway

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Our view at breakfast
Watching birds from our getaway cottage
The top of our hike down to Onion Creek
A midday snack

This week, the kids have been at camp. 

Last year, they went from Sunday to Wednesday and I thought I was going to crack I missed them so much. 

This year, they’re gone from Sunday to Saturday and we have enjoyed this parenting week off. 

By we, I mean me and Bray. 

Months ago, after registering the kids for camp, I decided to plan a surprise belated anniversary get away for the two of us.  First I booked an all-inclusive resort in Mexico.  But with us both needing to work and the logistics of sneaking his passport topped off by the fact that in the back of my mind I knew he’s not a total lover of surprises, I scaled back.  I did my research and found a little spot in the Hill Country where we could stay in our own secluded cottage away from the inn but still have access to their meals and their pool and hot tub and their hiking trails. 

Once we got to this weekend, I even let the kids in on the secret so they could help me sneak the luggage and cooler into the car underneath all their camp gear.  While they loved being part of the surprise, they did warn, “Mom, you really shouldn’t lie to dad.”

After camp drop off, which went far more easily this year, I took the driver’s seat and headed east.  Not south toward home.  After about an hour of driving, I sprung the surprise on him with great delight.  It all tumbled out.  My planning and the Mexico detour and the kids involvement and then the punchline, “So we’re staying Sunday through Tuesday in this cottage in the Hill Country.”

Quiet, then “Are you serious?” 

After a little more back and forth, he panicked a little because of all the work he had to do. 

So we turned back toward Houston to grab his work gear before driving to our getaway. 

You see, I LOVE surprises.  My husband does not. 

Despite the less than auspicious beginning, the retreat was exactly what we needed.  There was work, for him, but there was also rest.  Something sorely lacking in our lives, especially lately with intense jobs and intense kids schedules.  We talked and we laughed and we had serious conversations.  He said, while we watched the sunset after dinner, we need this more.  I was reminded of how fun and flirty we were before kids.  Neither of us would change for an instant the amazing family of five we have.  But parenting involves the less fun side of you all too often.  Discipline and schedule and doctors and homework.  You’re in it together but sometimes it feels like quicksand instead of Disneyland. 

After we returned, we kept leaning into each other.

Which meant another gift from this week was the reminder we’re in it together for the not-kid stuff too.  I’ve been so fortunate to have close girlfriends.  So while we do the kid part of our life together, I regularly deal with other parts of my life with girlfriends.  Not this week.  Every night, I was with Bray.  Thankfully and gratefully with him.  So after we got home from our two days away, we kept the conversation going. 

I’ve been going through a pretty painful sifting of a friendship.  It’s left me with a hurting heart.  As my best friend says, we have so little time to invest in adult friendships that the loss of a dear one can be enormously painful.  So I’ve been working through all that with my husband.  Laying out my wounds, my mistakes, my worries, and he has been incredible.  He acknowledges the pain and helps me walk through it. 

I got frustrated about a situation at work and I blew up one night about it.  After he laughed a little, because my reaction may have also been entertaining, he let me vent and he talked me back to a realistic approach. 

One night, we went out on a date to a restaurant I’d been dying to try, but one night we ate chips and dip in front of the t.v. while trying to wrap up the 10-part Vietnam War documentary we’d started a year ago. 

We did life together, just the two of us.  No one else.  No dinner parties or double dates or meet ups with friends.  We’ll do those and we’ll have those, but this week was a marriage gift. 

It reminded me that when these amazing kids drive off to college in 9 years, we’re going to be okay.  We really like each other and find each other interesting and have lots to talk about that doesn’t involve the kids.  Of course a lot can change in 9 years, but we want to make us a priority.  So we’re going to try.  And I couldn’t be more excited about our next adventure together (plus we’re super excited about picking up our kids on Saturday morning because we have missed them!). 

**And if you’re wondering why all the pictures from our week together are of scenery, he refused to get in pictures. “We already know what we look like,” he advised.

Lucky Number 13

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Thirteen years ago, I married Bray.

This extraordinary man who built a home and family with me over these years.

The one with whom I have traveled from Canada to Hawaii and from the farm to the ranch. Who I fought with and made up with and faced health scares with and attended hundreds of kids sporting events with and kissed goodnight for thousands of nights.

He is utterly imperfect as am I and our kids, but we fight to make our family work and we love each other fiercely.

The caption on the back side of our wedding thank you notes read, John Deere Republican, Urbanite Democrat, Newlyweds. Politics have changed in the world around us over these years and we’re no longer newlyweds, but we’re still salt and pepper. Completely different but strong together.

This year, our kids are nine.

We’re in our 40s. That oh-so-busy-season.

Our parents are all in their 70s and we’re so thankful the kids have these grandparents who love them and teach them things.

We have all our extended family and a bevy of incredible friends that feel like family.

I learn more about this man every year.

I still dream about kissing him when I’m away.

And while I have no idea what this year holds, a fact for which I am grateful, I do know I get to find out with him. We have a front row seat to see it unfold together.

I pray that 13 years from now, it’s still his green eyes I see first thing in the morning and his hand I get to hold walking down the street.

I can’t even imagine it, that day in the future 13 years from now when the kids are no longer under our roof and who knows what we’ll be doing with our days, but he is the one thing I see there.

My fixed point on the horizon.

Twelve Years

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12 years.

As the years pass, and I write a new anniversary post, I wonder how to capture the year gone by.

We celebrated 12 years of marriage. At the end of this year, we’ll have been together 15 years.  A third of our lives.

This was a good year.

An uneventful marriage year. But only uneventful marriage-wise.

We survived the surreal Hurricane Harvey in the fall. It upended our “routine” for quite some time, but nothing like those who are still without a home.  It also resulted in a new job for Bray.  This second grade year for the kids was also the first year both Bray and I worked and did not have a nanny.  Talk about a marriage strain.  I had a health scare.  Little bit had surgery.  We had ups and downs with the kids and with each other and with our jobs.

But still.

12 years came.

With no fanfare.

The five of us spent the weekend in Horseshoe Bay, so our Sunday anniversary celebration consisted of breakfast at Mockingbird Café, a long road trip, and a good bottle of champagne on our back patio after dinner while the kids watched t.v.

I went back and read my anniversary posts. I love Year 10.  Not only was it a good, hard but good, marriage year, but it reminded me of where we’ve been.  And where we’re going.

Do you know he makes coffee the night before so we’ll have fresh coffee when we wake up? Even when he’s wiped out.  He makes coffee.  Even when I heckle him because I didn’t like that bag of beans or it came out too strong.  He makes coffee.

I love so many things about marriage. And so many things are crazy hard about marriage because, you know, we’re two totally different people.

But that coffee every morning. Man, that is the best illustration of our marriage.

He shows up. Every day.  On the days I’m good and charming and encouraging and amorous and funny.  But he still totally shows up on the days I’m sad or losing my temper or sarcastic or inconsistent.

I remembered a sad story from my childhood on Thursday night. We were lying in bed and I was thinking about this super hard thing my best friend is going through with her husband.  And I told him this story, tears leaking out of my eyes, lying next to each other in the dark.  Honestly, I don’t think I’d remembered this fight between my parents since it happened over 30 years ago.

Then I said what I believe right now at this 12 year mark to be utterly true. It’s not easy.  And we don’t have a perfect marriage.  But after watching my parent’s marriage struggle and then fail, and after seeing the savage attacks and fallout in friends marriages, I am profoundly grateful.  I am thankful my children see us love one another.

We love our little people fiercely. And love one another.

We say I love you, every day. And kiss each other goodbye.

I do not take one more anniversary for granted. God has given us more than could have asked or imagined. (Eph. 3:20)

The Better Valentine

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It was a dimly lit, upscale Chinese restaurant on Post Oak. He’d picked me up in his mom’s new Jag.  We’d been dating just over two months.

February 14, 2004.

Hard to believe, fourteen years ago.

I fell in love with him that night.

It probably sounds Hallmark-y and made up, but I did. I already liked him A LOT and the food was fine and the car was fun, but that had nothing to do with it.  He had been babysitting his nieces earlier.  They were nine, six and three.  I’d just met them the week before.  He had these funny stories, especially about the one who was in throes of the terrible threes.

As I listened to him, I fell in love with him.

We are, on the whole, a particularly un-Hallmark couple. I’ve written about it before.  And I don’t write about “us” a lot because he’s intensely private and never signed up to be married to a blogger.  (That’ll teach him to have triplets with a woman who loves to write… no telling what you’ll end up with.)

That’s why it’s important for me to remember that Valentine’s Day night all those years ago.

And when contrasted to tonight’s super-romantic offerings, I’d take tonight over a dimly lit restaurant on Post Oak every single Valentine’s Day.

What could top that night you fell in love, you ask?

Well, we woke up early and the whole lot of us opened our Valentine’s Day cards and candy. (The kids also got Legos but Bray and I will settle for a funny card and piece of chocolate – you know we’ll end up having to do the Legos though…)

Then he helped the kids get ready for school while I raced out the door for an early morning meeting at work.

We’ll both race home tonight because the boys have their first basketball playoff game this Valentine’s Day evening at 5:45. Their team has been really good this year, so we just found out this week we have two more games. One on the “most romantic” night of the year, and the other one Saturday morning right in the middle of a retreat I was supposed to have attended.

I cooked up some ground turkey last night so we could throw together some tacos when we get home, after 7. We’ll need to read with the kids.  Luckily ONLY read because we did all their homework last night in advance for the week.

A kind executive gave me some really good wine for a deal I negotiated, so I have big plans to open a bold red wine when the kids go down (highly likely close to 9 pm, between basketball and being hopped up on Valentine’s candy). I know my challenge has no sugar, including alcohol, during the week, but I’m making an exception.

We’ll probably drink one glass before falling, exhausted, into bed.

I will take this night over that night 14 years ago any time I’m given the choice.

I’m so glad I have those butterflies from 14 years ago.

They got me these triplets today.

And I’m also fully aware that a decade from now we’ll have the chance to go out to high end, dimly lit restaurant on Valentine’s Day evening. We won’t, because we both agree it’s a ridiculous waste of money.  Maybe I’ll cook.  But the house will be empty.  And we’ll only have had playoff games for Valentine’s Day for such a brief time.  I’ll probably cry and wish for it all back.  We won’t have Legos to set out on the table in the morning.  And we won’t have little faces upturned with excitement.

So you see, I’m in love with our Valentine’s Day. And I’m praying we’ve got several more in store just like this one.

No One Can Stand Between Us

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We all five filed in the pew.  Sundays in the summer mean sporadic church attendance because of all the travel.  I couldn’t remember the last time all five of us made it on the same morning.

We attend a contemporary service, often to my hubby’s chagrin since he’s less enthusiastic about electric guitars in church.  I, on the other hand, love the music.

As we stood singing, I grabbed the hand of the man I fell in love with over 13 years ago.  The lyrics to one song sank deep into my bones:

God with us,
God for us,
Nothing can come against,
No one can stand between us.

I’m sure the songwriter had the collective “us” in mind when he wrote the song.  I couldn’t help but take an entirely different meaning away.

If you’ve been married for longer than two months, you’ve probably had a bad day in your marriage.  If you’ve been married longer than two years, you’ve probably had a bad month or two.

As I squeezed my husband’s fingers, I sang those words like a battle cry:  Nothing can come against, no one can stand between us.  I planned to claim another victory on the field of the enemies who attack our marriages.

We’ve had good days and bad days and good months and bad months.  Our start to the summer was no piece of cake.  There’s so many moving parts with his stuff and my stuff and the kids stuff and it gets messier in the summer.  (I know some people LOVE summer. As a schedule person, I crave the routine of the school year with kids.)

But it’s been a good month.  I felt like we stepped off another battlefield having reclaimed our ground. The song this morning reminded me how you come back stronger.  How you battle through the hard and the roots grow down deeper.  The Bible reminds us of this:  And the God of all grace… after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:10)

I do not understand the why and the when of the hard patches – in marriage, in family, in health, in work, in whatever the obstacle.  But I pray I never cease being thankful for (or recognizing) the growth on the other side.  The healing.  The strength.

Tonight, the eldest commented I had too much romance in my life.  When I asked why, he said because you’re always kissing people.  Who am I always kissing, I inquired.  Daddy, he replied.

It’s not just about the kissing, but I’m grateful for that part of it too.