I knew it was going to be a crap morning right from the start.
I’d been on this weight-loss journey for a little over two months now and it was my weekly weigh-in day. I had high hopes for the number on the scale as I was back in action for a full week after an unfortunate shoulder injury. I was averaging 20,000 steps a day and eating healthier than I can ever remember eating in my life. I knew I was going to see some results.
Nope. Nothing. Nada.
The same number appeared in front of me as had been materializing for the last three consecutive weeks. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I had hit a plateau and without forking out a bunch of money for gym memberships and trainers, I wasn’t sure how I was going to pass this point of displease.
However, I couldn’t let this hinder my day. I am a mother after all — I have stuff to do. So I got dressed, walked out to the kitchen and proceeded with our usual morning routine.
I was sifting through a pile of mail when my next piece of bad news hit me like a Cadillac straight to the gut. It was our car insurance bill. At first I was excited to see this envelope as I was anticipating some huge savings on it. You see we have decided, in an effort to save money and reduce our carbon footprint, to downsize from two cars to one. In all reality, we simply do not need two vehicles. Our neighbourhood falls in walking distance of the kids’ school, Jamie’s workplace and several different grocery and shopping malls.
So why clutter up our lives and this Earth with yet another vehicle?
Well apparently, I found out after a lengthy conversation with our insurance broker, it does not pay to try to be economical or enviro-friendly in this day and age. It seems that we had had a two-car policy and when we downsized to one, our premiums shot way up. There, of course, was more explanation than that — lingo and clarification that indeed slipped right over my head — but in essence our “savings” going from operating two vehicles to one in regards to insurance was about $30.
Halle-flipping-lujah.
I left the insurance place on foot, regretting ever deciding to get rid of our second vehicle. To top off the day, some dude in a huge truck sped by and splashed last night’s rainwater all over my pants. The irony was not lost on me.
I arrived home sodden and surly. It wasn’t until I glanced at the calendar to verify the kids’ first day of school that I realized what day it was.
The day before mine and Jamie’s anniversary.
Both he and I had forgotten as the recent days and weeks had been providing a fair amount of disorder and stress. But there it was, tried and true, our four-year anniversary staring back at me silently asking how I could have almost overlooked something so monumental.
I thought about our life together. The beautiful moments we’ve shared.
Like the time he woke me up in the middle of the night to watch a meteor shower. Outside on the deck, there was a hot cup of tea waiting for me and a cozy blanket to cuddle up in to watch the show.
Then there was that other time he woke me up in the middle of the night because our neighbours were doing the dirty in their living room window and he wanted someone to giggle over it with. That too was quite the show.
My memory began flooding with moments of hilarity, compassion, somberness and glee over the hundreds of thousands of “times” I could recall with my husband.
He is the one person in this world whom I’ve wholeheartedly decided to live forevermore with. We share, we tease, we disagree, we all-out fight, and then we laugh about it later, we create and we talk. I believe the latter are some our best qualities.
I realized that today, this awful day, was just a bump in an otherwise long and lovely road. Sure there will be bad days, annoying situations and seemingly unfair circumstances.
But sure as the ring on my finger, there will be superior days to follow. And those days will become the cornerstone in the eventual memoirs of Lindsay and Jamie Brown.
Lindsay Brown is a Sylvan Lake mother of two and freelance columnist.