Tyler and I are now the proud owners of a strange clock made of brightly colored forks and spoons.
It’s bizarre. Our kids with think it’s hideous.
We love it.
Tyler found a kitschy clock in Toronto while we were on our Honeymoon four years ago, and it’s all been downhill from there. It seems like he’s always finding an odd new clock or a funky lamp, but we never buy them. Until now.
I made the wallpaper on our shared computer the portrait of a baby elephant. Because it’s ridiculously cute. She’s wrinkled and has red hair, and I’ve nicknamed her Rosie for reasons unknown even to me.
Tyler leaves it, because baby animals are his weakness. (His other weaknesses include fixing things and protecting me with his big muscles. Because he is far more masculine than baby animals might suggest.)
We both love listening to classical music at loud volumes. We could both watch Star Trek for 19 flobbity-jillion hours (and sometime we do). Our outfits match on accident at least three days a week because we favor the same colors. We keep a stuffed alligator on our bed who we talk about like he’s a real animal, and we talk about our real animal like she’s human.We’ve picked out future-baby names, and they’re old and weird, and we adore them. We could live on sushi and we don’t like candle scents that make us hungry. We drink a lot of black tea, and if there are actual sugar cubes, it’s even better.
To be sure, we have our frustrations. In some ways, I just don’t get that man, and I’m certain (because he’s told me so) that there are things about me that baffle him as well.
But there are 1,000 ways that we’ve melded into our own strange little Stroud family. Our quirks align in a startling, wonderful way, and today I celebrate that.