Life's Glasses

I haven't been doing this blog business for long now.  In fact this is only my 4th post in case you've been following.  I got to thinking today that before I blogged much more I should introduce you to someone.  I know him as Babe, Babycakes, Darlin', and a few other names that I'll just keep between us. (and trust me, you're glad for that)  You know him as Rockstar Hubs (RH)  I do call him this as well sometimes.  Like when I see him display amazing feats of strength with pickle jars, and especially when he gets his vacuum groove on.  Now that's HOT!  So why Rockstar?  Well first of all it sounds much cooler than Stoic Norwegian Hubs.  Right? I mean c'mon that ain't exactly sexy.  No offense to the Norwegians out there.  Obviously I'm married to one.  A pure bred 100%  UFF DA Viking man.  And for the record he is the epitome of sexy to me...but that's not where I'm taking this post so relax.  This isn't the adult blogging channel.

When we got married 22 years ago we had our rose colored glasses on like every other couple I assume who gets married.  We were going to live the fairytale. Minus the glass slipper...how uncomfortable is that?  And for those of you who know me better, also know that my parents owned several women's shoe stores for most of my life, so there was NO way I'd be caught in something like that.  Anyway...rose colored glasses...yes, they were intact on that cold day in November.

As life would have it for all people on this planet the rosey picture has had it's less than pink hue some days.  When we were married about 3 years we had our first daughter A, whom we call Ki Ki.  She was and still is the most lovely, beautiful child.  Oh the love love love....she was our WHOLE world.  We jumped into first time parenting with abandon.  There was no moment unaccounted for. Every smile, coo, and burp was admired as the 8th wonder of the world.  And for a time our glasses weren't just rosey they were downright MAUVE.  (It was the 90's remember, mauve was big)

Our Ki Ki at age 4

We noticed some things were "off" around age 2.  She could count in perfect Spanish and yet not seem to follow through on a simple command to get her sippy cup.  She could recognize her letters, numbers and colors, and yet wouldn't make eye contact with us.  She seemed to be in her own world.  Indeed she was....we were told at age 3 that she had a high functioning form of autism.  NO...NO..not our child.  Not our perfect, gentle, sweet first born baby.  Our glasses were no longer mauve, nor even rosey, they seemed pretty grey.  Cold.  Dirty. And very ill fitting.  I wanted to rip them off actually and scream "This is NOT the fairytale!!!"  I want the glass slipper!!  Really I'll wear it...I don't care if my toes turn purple...just make my baby ok.

Rockstar Husband was born that day.  I may have wanted to stay in the grey for a while but my rockstar said no.  He reminded me first of all who our God is.  And that with our God nothing is impossible.  NO thing.  So together we cleaned our dirty glasses, pushed them back up on our faces and focused on to see more clearly.  Our Ki Ki is nearly 20 years old today.  I cannot begin to tell you in this one post all of the many many things we've gone through.  The times of pure joy and elation and some points of severe sadness and grieving.  I also cannot begin to tell you in this one post how big our amazing God is.  I will tell that story one day.  For now just believe me when I say NOTHING is impossible with Him.  It's truer than any true thing.  The miraculous ways in which He has restored her when "they" said she will  'never be'...never be this...and never be that.... We would always leave those meetings and ask the question again...'What does God say?' And His answer was always different, and He proved it time and time again as she conquered this...and conquered that.  Rockstar, he was the optician in all of this.  Kept my glasses on, kept them polished, and helped to bring the rosey color back. 

   Worldly Rockstar status is sought after by so many, but not attainable for most.   Rockstars are the be all and end all of the "good life".  Women, booze, drugs, and a rock and roll band...every man's dream right?  Not my rockstar...he's one for all the other reasons...not women , just woman, one woman.  He doesn't even like the smell of beer, and Advil is his pain killer of choice.  And while he loves a great Van Halen song as much as any good 80's person should, he kinda likes Need To Breathe these days and a little TobyMac.  We've had two more children, the rockstar and I.  We've moved more times than I care to remember.  We've been broke...like dirt down in the mud busted broke.  We've argued until 3:00 in the morning.  We've given each other the silent treatment for far too long sometimes.  And we have shared thousands of hugs, millions of kisses, and trillions of laughs with each other.  I know what he's thinking when he gives me this certain look in the kitchen.  I know what he means when he sends me a text that just says "moo".  (and it's not that he thinks I'm a cow) Even I, who love to joke, would not find that funny.  He is a rockstar every day when he goes and works his ever livin' tail off so I can teach our kids at home. He is a rockstar when I've putzed around on the computer too long, and asks if he can make supper for me.  I don't know if real world rockstars are this selfless, generous and strong.  I guess I don't care, because the word 'Rockstar' has changed for me.  To me it's a Stoic Norwegian man who knows how to keep my glasses clean.  The rosey part...well... fairytales are not real...but most days my vision is clear, and definitely a pretty shade of pink.