I read somewhere that people who are very proud of their relationship status are really unhappy with their relationship status. That's kinda super weird, right? I mean, one can fool himself into thinking he's happy but the other person in the relationship can see through the farce. Like, if I go, "I'm so happily married!!!" on Facebook and Vince knows we had an explosive fight the night before, well, he'd know I was lying. So... that's weird.
You know what's weird, too? I know I say I'm proud of my marriage but I also want to say that nothing has humbled me the way my marriage and our kids have. It's easy to say that my marriage is a success and that I'm a great mom because, well, just look at my life—it's fantastic! But to be very honest, it's only fantastic because a lot of humbling moments come my way every day.
My fantastic life starts every single day with poop. I'm crouched over three little butts, getting poop on my fingers, wiping, washing.
My days aren't full of glamour now. Instead, I'm covered in spit-up, boogers, snot and whatever food the kids wiped on my dress.
When my husband and I fight, no matter whose fault it is, I say sorry.
When I say a bad word or I yelled at my kids, I say sorry.
And this last week, when my husband and kids were very sick, I was hunched over them, wiping snot, massaging backs, giving medicine, hugging and kissing. Then when they have all finally gone into troubled sleep, I was on my knees, crying and begging God to heal Vince, Vito, Iñigo and Piero.
The Bible says love isn't proud. I used to think that meant you have to be the first to say sorry. Now I understand that love is about service. And you can't serve people without humility.
Some days, I'm not so humble. I get annoyed that I have to face a diaper full of poop yet again. I get exasperated that my husband wants me to eat breakfast with him when I'm already working. I resent that I'm unwashed, unglamorous and barefoot. I refuse to apologize because I'm right or I'm trying to teach the kids a lesson. When I'm being proud and full of myself, my relationships fail. And I've always believed that no matter how successful you are, if your relationships are a failure, then you've failed in life big time.
So to truly love is to serve, to give up myself and my needs, to swallow my pride, to give and give and give. There's nothing lofty about sacrifice and service, but this I know: When the man I've loved for 16 years tells our kids, "When you grow up, marry someone like your Mama," and when our kids are tumbling all over the house in joy, I know I loved them right. I don't get it right all the time, but as long as I remember to be humble, then everything will be alright.