It is different now. Being in love is incredible, being married in love is indescribable. But I’ll try.

I should have known the monumental differences that I would experience, given the absolute fairytale wedding day that Jason and I were granted. In my wildest dreams, most secret fantasies and even in my unspoken expectations, I had never been able to imagine a day so glorious as September 13, 2009.

From start to finish, the weekend was perfect. The events leading up to the actual day paved the way for a celebration for family and friends to enjoy all together. I sat at a lunch surrounded by the closest women in my life - anyone who knows me well realizes how special this moment was for me…to be around all of my friends and family who reside all over, all at once…priceless. The rehearsal dinner reminded us how precious our family and friends are (the speeches were incredible and never to be forgotten). The food was great, the mood was celebratory and I fought internally between dragging out every moment and counting down the seconds until we said “I do.” (Despite the year of praticing, Jason and I actually never had to utter those words.)

And then the day came. It was perfection. Every single aspect of it. Especially Jason. We still talk about how fairytale-like the day was. I thought that with the planning, the wedding, Hawaii, etc., that for sure I would be “coming down” by now…I have not felt the let down yet. Jason is the most romantic, attentive and supportive person I’ve ever known, read about or dreamt about. It is amazing and may have something to do with my natural high.

Things are different now than they were September 12th. They just are. Jason looks at me with a different set of eyes - I don’t know how else to describe it. He has my back in a way that nobody ever has before. And I have his. I always wanted to play team sports - I never liked to play alone. Now I am on the greatest team of all time. I know some love to be independent (a quality that should never go undervalued), but there is something so freaking amazing about teaming up with someone whom you are in love with, coming home to work on your team strategies every night and working to beat your stats together.

I love it and literally feel grateful every single day.

The best is yet to come…I’m positive.

I work so hard, yet am so lazy on the weekend.

I cry more than most, but am happier than most dream of being.

I am completely in touch with myself and have no fear of judgement - perhaps this is why I am so open.

If I wrote every time I feel inspired, I would never put my pen down.

To some, blogging is unique and too open. For me, it’s truly something that I give very little thought about. I tend to post in ten minutes or less. I never regret what I say. I meant it when I wrote it and while it may change overtime, I consider this blog a personal time capsule that reflects my day-to-day. I am not normal - my husband tells me constantly that I am “weird…,but in a good way.”

Heck yes, in a good way. I’d never want to be ordinary…that’s just boring.

If I vent, it doesn’t mean that I’m unhappy, it just means that I’m expressive. Everyone needs to vent and it comes out here.

Toodles.

When I moved to Chicago over three years ago, my friend Jamie invited me to temple for the high holidays. Without hesitation, I went along as a ninth wheel. (Yes, and that was before any “kids” got married.) I never felt like an extra, but instead just one in the mix. I sat quietly and witnessed this clan laugh with (and sometimes at) each other. The dynamic was unlike anything I had ever known. As i sat in their Northbrook synagogue I reflected on my friend’s family and quickly wanted to know more.

This large family is headed by two strong parents. Clearly this unified team worked together for years to build the family values that they all share today. The family is blessed by many things in life - the ability to travel the world and become educated without financial concern is just one of the many. When I say that they have it ALL- it is not the AMAZING clothing that Jamie’s mom wears that I am referencing (although, she really does have great taste). No, that’s not it at all. Not even close.

I’m talking about the Friday night Shabbats that they shared growing up. I’m sure that in high school the kids thoughts that they had “better things to do,” but they knew what had to come first (and then they could go to have their second). I’m referring to the way that eight different characters get along depite their differences. I’m talking about the way that charity has become a part of each of their lives, due to the direct example of their parents. Yes, they have, but they always give. My friend Jamie is the most generous person  that I know. In time and in spirit. She just is and always has been (except with her space our freshman year at college - she took up the whole triple, but I guess she did have more clothes than anyone).

Driving to Cleveland for the last time before our nuptuals, Jason and I both picked Jamie’s family as the one we want to work towards for our own. It was not an accident that Jason and I - two people who are so different but share all of the same values - selected this family. This weekend we discussed our own family (in the middle of the night, I may add) and we reconfirmed what we already knew - we will have our own soon enough. Sometimes it feels lonely in Chicago, as Jason’s family is small and mine is far or MIA.

In talking with Jason, I  realized that I do have a sibling close by - my sister, Jamie.  Jamie never judges, always puts her “family” first and never turns her back on doing the right thing - even when it’s the last thing she wants to do…that’s what family should be defined as. We share our lives together, our clothes, challenges and dreams…just as two sister would.  Jamie is a rock - once a roomate, then a friend and now my sister.

 I’m feeling quite disappointed by my family lately, but I won’t air my dirty laundry here. I’m hiding my true feelings from the myself just as much as I am from the public. Today I feel grateful for my new definition of family and realize how extended mine is.

I remember every inch of your Hamilton home - across from the high school, blocks away from “downtown” and a short suburb away from “Benny’s.” I think you would each be surprised by how often I reminisce about your family. All six of you. In detail.

I envied your “pack.” I loved loading up our wagon and heading east. My vacations were spent in Glenrock and Passiac - not Florida like my friends - but I would not trade in the memories for any amount of suntan. I loved it. I loved that Amy’s room was declared hers across the red, white and blue wall paper. I loved Marc and Jeff’s huge grey adult desk and personal bathroom. I loved Liz’s window to the front of the house, her sewing room in Goosta’s former room and her pink Dr. Martin’s. I loved your parents’ incredible closet, extremely powerful walk-in shower and big square pillows on the bed. I loved the family portrait outside of their room - all dressed in white. I loved the stools in the kitchen, the suede grey/navy couch in the living room and the dog/maj jong room connected to the deck. i loved the fake projector/transparency device we used to play school and was intriqued by the silver tube in Liz’s closet. I loved staying up with Liz and planning out our future together (even our home that we’d share) and then setting our mental alarm clock to awake. I loved the personalized street sign in the back, the extra bedroom in the basement and the motorcycle that scared me in the garage. I miss waiting for my cousins on Pennington Ave. and then watching you arrive from the black rubber couch which was bordered by that sketch of Grandpa and his framed articles. Finally your clowncar of a Suburban would crawl up the driveway and within ten minutes, you’d be bowling in the living room and distrupting the peace - in a good way. I loved Thanksgivings in the east and the pies from Benny’s that went along with them.

I loved sneaking Liz out of school to go shopping - your dad couldn’t find out. I loved walking into “town” and shopping at card store for Gund Bears and Mandee’s on our own. I miss going to Jon Boy’s? and questioning why Amy ate her slices upside down. I miss hearing Marc beg for Aunt Sherry to take him to Toys R Us. I miss Jeff’s hockey talk and crazy cleanliness. I miss Amy’s big curly hair and “Married with Children” skits. I miss going to Benny’s.

Your dad always made me feel like I was important, special and at the “front of the line.” I miss watching him work the stove, chat with every single customer and sporadically coming over to make sure our meals were great - always were. I miss watching your mom fold lottery tickets and work the cash register faster than any machine could while also shouting at me, “get your hands off the glass.” All in one breath. I remember the humantashens in the glass - chocolate! I remember the book store three doors down to the left. And the card store next to that (not just cards, stuffed animals, too with the counter all the way in the back of the store).

I remember being a young girl and completely dumbfounded by the fact that your father woke up so early to get to work. He took us to see amazing Christmas lights one year and I remember thinking, “isn’t he tired?” and “aren’t we Jewish?”

I guess what I’m saying is that he will be missed. I missed him last week, too, because I have missed our relationship for years. I want to go back to the days when I knew Rob was out of the picture, couldn’t believe that Amy was picking out her own clothes and got a quarterly kick out of the major differences between the two boys. We don’t live close now, but we never have - it shouldn’t stop us from connecting like we did.

I will be with you in spirit on Sunday…there’s no doubt about that. I’d like to be there for more than that moving forward. Those were the days, most certainly, but we’ve got today too. And tomorrow if we are lucky.

All my love,

Stacy