We celebrated 8 years of marriage together yesterday. We’ve had some of the most frustrating moments in these last 8 years than ever before. We’ve had some of the angriest moments in the last 8 years. We’ve had some of the toughest moments in the last 8 years. Nothing, NOTHING compares to the joy and gratitude I’ve had for my husband in the last 8 years. And it’s only been 8 years! Imagine how i’ll feel in 80 years? (oh, spoiler alert: I’m an elf and live to like, 400 years old. Give or take a few).

We have shared some of the best memories, no matter how simple or how exciting. We’ve has some of the best laughs where tears are streaming down our face, no matter how lame or how funny what we’re laughing at is. We’ve eaten some of the best foods in the last 8 years, whether it’s at the sunshine cafe in the Philippines across the world, or the best tacos in Fernie. We’ve had Olive, who truly is the best little human in our world. She’s sunshine and toes and little squeals with the cutest smile and endless curls.

Marriage is hard, but it’s wonderful. And it’s worth every smile, tear, fight and kiss. Here are my top 5 discoveries I’ve made in my 8 years of marriage.

1). Men can’t read our minds. SHOCKING. I know. I too, was shocked to discover this. Prime example of what I mean. My husband- “Where do you want to eat?” Me- “I dunno.” (Here’s the thing guys!! I DO KNOW. I want mcdonald’s. Or Joey’s. But I want HIM to OFFER it to me). So we banter back and forth doing the “just tell me where you want to eat…” “I actually don’t know. Don’t actually care….” But really, in my head I’m like “PICK JOEY’S. PICK JOEY’S.” He then suggests NOT Joey’s, and I get mad. And when he asks what’s wrong, I usually say “nothing. I just thought we were going to Joey’s.” And then my husband stares at me bewildered looking like he might scream at the top of his lungs, cry in frustration, or hug me for being so insanely cute (just kidding, this has never happened). Ladies, just tell the poor sucker where you actually want to eat. Save him his sanity.

2). Men don’t like to celebrate things. Anniversaries. Birthdays. Dating anniversaries. Even their own birthdays! According to my husband, birthdays are for little kids. So imagine my dismay when I’ve been dropping hints the 8 months leading up to my birthday, and he drops THAT bombshell on me. Wait… so you’re not surprising me and whisking me off to the Amalfi coast on a private jet?

3). Men don’t get cold. We live in Alberta, Canada OK? There have been days in the dead of winter where it has gotten to -40. Cars stop running. You get frost bite within mere seconds of being outside (slight exaggeration). Furnaces break down. If you threw water in the air it would freeze into crystals (i’ve never done this, but according to my scientific calculations, it would be possible. And also, I saw a video on youtube and it worked. What more scientific proof do you need?) So point is…. it’s cold here. Dane will sleep with the window open so that you can see your breath in your room. And the furnace is NOT turned up all the way. And he still sleeps with his feet out of the covers. MEN DON’T GET COLD. I repeat, MEN DON’T GET COLD.

4). Men don’t like to hear “we need to talk” at 11:23 when their head hits the pillow. Ladies, tell me I’m not wrong. You have been bottling something up all day. They’ve asked you “what’s wrong?” Yet you don’t tell them. You say “nothing,” but in your voice that they should know better and KNOW the something is definitely very wrong. But they carry on about their merry little day. And at 11:15, after they’ve showered, brushed their teeth, checked the last thing on their phone, they turn off the light, and they sigh and close their eyes… and you’re just laying there like…. “Is he seriously gonna go to sleep?” And you bite your tongue for a few more minutes very HEAVILY sighing, letting him know that he should not be going to sleep so calmly. And at 11:23 you can’t take it anymore, and you say “SERIOUSLY?! You’re just gonna fall asleep? We need to talk.” I CAN’T be the only one who does this.

5). Men (*ahem* my husband) are only pretending to listen. I have told Dane things, and he’s nodded his head, even AGREED with me… only to completely be shocked by my retelling someone else the same thing I told him. Or I’ll remind him of our plans for that evening and he looks all shocked and says “when were you gonna tell me we had plans for tonight?” And I have to slowly count to 10 so I don’t loose my cool on him. In my most sugary, sweet as pie voice REMIND HIM THAT I DID tell him about our plans. And then I’ll remind him of the conversation and tell him things he even replied with. You can see the wheels just turning in his head, his eyes are all squinty like he’s trying to remember. And then, there it is. He remembers. Vaguely. And you know what he says? “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention when you told me, so it doesn’t count.” 1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10……. blast off. I’ve lost my cool.

Here’s the thing. 8 years if marriage have opened my eyes to a lot. They’ve made me grow up. They’ve made me slightly more patient. They’ve made me more understanding. They’ve made me more honest. In a way, these last 8 years have made me more me. It is not lost on me how truly lucky I am to have such a supportive husband. Or how lucky I am to have someone who wants to take care of me. Or provide for me. Mentally, emotionally, McDonaldally (hi, I’m Claudia and I’m a McDonald’s addict. Not currently recovering).

Being married for 8 years has made me realize that this life can be tough, but if you’re married to your best friend, this life can be wonderful. And if the man can’t read your mind and guess your restaurant, and thinks birthdays are for babies, he causes frostbite to your toes and nose, and doesn’t wanna get the “talk” fight before bed, and he only half listens to you….. just count to 10. He’s probably still trying. Men are wired differently than women. As in they aren’t wired correctly and we are, but let’s not hold that against them.

Ladies, love your husbands. They’re amazing men, and they get plenty of credit from their mothers (especially if they’re momma’s boys), but let’s give them a little more.

Cheers (*clink!* My McDonald’s coke clinked with yours:)