From the Archive: To fart and to forgive.
Writer's note: As an initiative to be more actively writing to fill my blog with lovely and beautiful things, I've decided to go back in the archive and unearth some old blogs that were never made public. They might not be about branding or marketing, but they'll be observations and musings, and my hope is that you'll find a smile dance across your face at least once while reading them. This particular post comes from my experiences as the wife of a Law Enforcement Officer. Please enjoy.
We didn't write our own vows. For this I am glad. There are some people in this world that decide to be JUST a little bit better than everyone else and share their most intimate thoughts for their partner in front of a bunch of a weepy peanut gallery to show they are SERIOUS about this thing. Those lovely, poetic phrases used for decades just won't do it for them. They are better than that. We were not.
Nope, we thought the traditional vows were just fine. You know, the "sickness and health, 'til death do us part" business. It was proven, it was gorgeous, and it just about covers everything...well except maybe not.
No one ever says, "...for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as a policeman or as not a policeman, to fart and to forgive." I never thought to add those. I never expected to HAVE to add those. Should I have written my own vows? Did I do it wrong? Can I leave him if I didn't promise to stay with him in a serious gas crisis?
Two years into our marriage and my personal-training, strongman-competing, video-gaming, bearded lumberjack of a husband tells me he is going to research what to do with the rest of his life. I say something like that, and I end up in tears questioning my existence in this world. He makes that proclamation and 48 hours later he says, "I think I'm going to apply to be a police officer."
June 2014 husband applied to be a police officer.
December 11, 2015 he received the final confirmation that he was accepted into the academy.
January 5, 2016 he begins his six-month academy, and his year of training to become a cop.
So that's what he's doing. What am I doing?
Well, because I'm a good wife and everything, I'm doing this thing with him. I'll be at the graduation ceremony, I'll put on my happy face and awkwardly meet the other wives, I'll do whatever needs to be done to support him. I'll even set aside my oath to stay as illiterate as possible and read books! I've started a couple books for police wives, and unfortunately, they fall short of all the things I hope for. They assume two things about us:
1) The police officer has a family (with like, human children, not dog children.)
2) The wife knew of her husband's desire to be a police officer when they started dating, and committed to marrying him knowing full well what she was jumping into.
We don't fall into either of those assumptions. We met in music school, and while he switched to Religion, we have lived our lives being as selfish with our time as possible. I thought I was marrying a personal trainer who could keep me as sexy as possible for the rest of my time on this earth (can you imagine the immense pressure? Maybe I led him to this?!?!)
It's hard not to think "I didn't ask for this."
Although, I should think of it from his perspective...he didn't ask for a fox of a wife with dreams the size of the planet pluto (may it rest in peace...I still consider you a planet, Pluto. #neverforget) who tends to go at life like a toddler: stumbling about with food on her face and always amazed at what she sees in the mirror.
Somehow he survives, and somehow, I will survive.
In this process, I will be the one person that commits to serving and protecting the man I love, while his life is laid down for others.
This is the beginning of my account of becoming a proud police officer's wife.