What Goes Around

Tony lost his wedding ring in February 2008. He noticed it was not on his finger as he was letting Barkley out one day, and by that time he had already been to the store and shoveled the driveway. He retraced his steps, went back to the supermarket and searched the freezers (ice cream, of course). He tore his car apart. He borrowed a metal detector and searched the yard. Nothing. To say he was upset would be an understatement.

It was insured, luckily. The appraisal amount was based on the original cost. If he wanted to get the same ring, it would have been TWICE as much due to the increased cost of gold. So he just never got around to submitting the claim and getting a 'real' ring. Instead he got a $20 replacement band at a mall kiosk. Sleeping, showering, playing sports, etc... He never takes that thing off. It looks like any old ring. A plain silver band. But if you hold it in your hand there is very little weight, as if hollow.

It's just a ring, both the original and the replacement. In the big picture it's no big deal. But our bands are special. The ones we picked out together in the grown-up jewelry store, and put on each others' fingers the day we were married... those were our rings.

Every once in a while I'd ask Tony if he wanted to go pick out another one, and he always declined. I don't know if he was holding out hope that one day he'd find the original, or if it just bummed him out too much to really replace it.

This weekend we were both doing yard work. It wasn't on my To Do list, but it was beautiful out. Des went down for a nap and I wanted to be out in the air picking weeds. I started out at one end of the house and worked my way down.

This was a particularly long nap for Des. Again, I didn't have a plan for how much I wanted to get done so I just kept on going, filling 2 garbage cans along the way. When I got to the grass down by the end of the driveway, I noticed something metallic looking among the weeds and rocks.



A quarter maybe? It was dirty, faded silver.



I leaned in further... It was a ring.



Just sitting there on top of the soil. I picked it up thinking maybe Tony dropped his knock-off cheapo as he was down there earlier. No, this was much heavier. Solid and strong.

I RAN to the backyard where Tony was dumping one of my garbage cans. I threw my arms around him and said, "Give me your hand."

"I don't want to," he replied.

I was covered in filth and sweat and hugging him unexpectedly. I don't blame him for that reaction.

"Yes, you do." I put the ring in his hand.

"What is this?"
"It's YOUR RING."
"No it's not... no it's not."

He could not believe it. It took him a few minutes to be convinced. We hugged for a long time and cried. It wasn't just the rings. It's the way it happened.



3+ years of New England weather. Snow, rain, a near tornado just a few weeks earlier... Cars, lawn mowers, snow blowers. It shows on the ring. A few little dings and a tarnished finish. He doesn't think he'll get it polished. Those marks are like badges of honor.


Fake on top, real on the bottom.

He regularly wears both now. I joke that people are going to think he has sister wives. But I really think it's cute. He just loves his one wife supah extra!

Welcome back, old friend.

Happy Anniversary (a day late)

Four years of married life. It's strange how something can feel like forever and yet at the same time like it's only been the blink of an eye.



I never thought I'd get married. I knew I'd find The One some day, but I assumed we'd be perfectly fine living Oprah-style, as partners in life without formal vows or the law getting involved. And we did that for a while. 7 years of playing house before we finally gave in to what our guts were telling us all along.

Each year that passes I grow more confident and content in our decision. It's not something that we needed, it's something that we wanted. Our wedding day was a time to show our family and friends that we choose each other. Every day in our marriage that's what we are doing... making the choice of us. As individuals and together, we are better for it.



It's an easy choice to make. Because my husband is the biz-omb. And he'd probably say the same about me. Maybe not that exact word. But something comparable. I strive to be like him and to be the best person for him.

Tony is level-headed, reasonable, take charge, funny, outgoing, kind. I am more the artsy type... impulsive, introverted, easily overwhelmed, nurturing, too smart for my own good. Somehow we level each other out. It just works. We are a match. Also, additionally, and furthermore... that boy still gives me butterflies. :smile:

And now we have this:



Can it get any better? We have a lifetime of adventures to find out.

Happy anniversary, my love.

Wedding photos by Jenny Frazier.

Opening Day 2011

The home opener at Fenway turned out to be an amazing day. I was picturing drizzly rain, freezing temps, unruly crowds, and yet another loss for the Sox. And it was all the opposite. Except for the crowds, but that's to be expected.

The one slight snag in the day was when I ventured to the bathroom, which is always an experience at Fenway. I know well enough to get up from my seat when there are either 1 or 2 outs in the inning. If you wait until the inning is over, it's complete madness. So I headed down underneath at the appropriate time. Right outside the ramp from our seats is the women's room entrance, where I noticed two security guards standing. Huh, that's weird. Then through the crowd I saw one of the guards stop a woman trying to go in, and I realized it was closed. No worries, right? I'll just go to the next bathroom just down the way. HA! Yeah right. I knew right away I was in the shit, so to speak. I ran, as fast as one can run through a wall of people, to the next women's room. But it was too late. The line was like a snake down the hall. I was at the end, standing by the men's room where I saw guys walking in and out like it was nothing.

In my younger, drunker days, I would have just walked in to the men's room. But I'm a mom now. I guess that's what it was. I dunno, something kept me from doing that. I only had two beers in me maybe. I'm not gonna lie, and sorry mom but, I cursed. I cursed a lot. In solidarity to the woman in front of me ("What the fuuuuck"), in anger at the men chuckling at our plight ("Oh shut the fuck up"), and in frustration at the shoddy Fenway plumbing which closed that other restroom ("Shittastic!").

I'm sorry I just spent that much time talking about going to the bathroom. But hey, when a girls gotta go... And if that was the only snag in the day, I'd say it was a success.

I didn't bring the camera, so here are some phone photos of our day:


NERD!


Our seats. The plumbing may not be the best at Fenway, but they finally put in cupholders! Small miracles.






We're trying to look normal while covering our peanut-teeth here.

Tony's mom was nice enough to watch Des for us that day. And it was like old times, sitting in our regular seats, commenting on the game and the surroundings, all the changes they made to the park. The only difference being that we would point out all the babies and talk about how cute they were, while missing our own little one at home.

We'll bring Des one day soon. But it was truly special being there with my husband, just us.

Partners and Pals

Tony and I are a good team. We've been together a long time. We're like a well-oiled machine in the habits of daily life, even prior to parenthood. And as non-routine occasions come up: traveling, late nights at work, health issues, etc., it takes very little planning and discussion to come up with a quick plan. We just kinda know how it goes. You do this, I'll do that, yup, go.

Parenting has tested the limits of our teamwork. But for the most part, it's been a pretty easy transition for Team Cawlamone. I feel a little douchey saying that. Like those women who pop back into shape immediately after childbirth and say, "What, like it's hard?"

We're not farting roses and love poems, but it just works with us, I don't know how.

It certainly helps that my husband is as present, hands-on, and eager a father as anyone can ask. I knew he would be that way, of course. It's just his nature. It's kinda like he's 100% dad and 25% mom. Which leaves me 75% mom. He's like Michael Jordan in his prime and I'm an aging Dennis Rodman picking up a rebound here and there, questionable hairstyles and all. He might disagree with this allocation. But that's how it feels to me sometimes... most times, really. Des and I are very lucky.

Maybe I take it for granted, but the strength of our team doesn't really hit home until one of us is out of commission. Most notably, Tony.

While Desmond is back to his old self (THANKFULLY), Tony has been hit by the same bug. Fever, chills, cough, cold, the works. It came on fast and hard, within a day he was out. He's been in bed most of Sunday, which is very unusual for him. Even when he's sick he usually pushes through, refusing to admit that anything can take him down. Unfortunately, this one got him good.

So I played the role of single mom today. I wanted to let Tony rest, so I took Des out on the town and we had such a fun day, but I am grateful this is only a temporary role. And I bow at the feet of all the full-time single parents out there. I don't know how you do it every day. You have some serious superpowers.

I can only hope this bug works itself through as quickly as it did with Des. And ya know... STAYS THE HELL AWAY FROM ME. Maybe wishful thinking. Zicam, do your thang please.


Get better quickly, babe. I'll hold us up until then. But our team is not the same without you.

*photo stolen from Jenny Frazier

**and p.s. read this week's article on The Patch.

Love and Laundry

My husband does many daily chores very well and unrequested. Dishes, trash, cooking, cleaning, food shopping. He picks up and drops off Des from daycare. He feeds him dinner and has ours ready when I get home. I recognize that he is the best and I am super lucky. He's not just my soul mate, love of my life, best friend... he actually does stuff.

All I ask is that he stays away from the laundry.

The other day I went upstairs to fold a basket of baby clothes that I had washed the night prior. But the basket wasn't where I left it.

"Tone, where's that load of laundry that was up here?"

"I put it in the wash."

"Dude, that was CLEAN."

"Oh. I was just trying to help."

Bless his heart.

Back in the day Tony used to have a sock drawer. But not your typical sock drawer. It was full of single socks, randomly strewn about. Every morning he'd fish around for two socks that were close to the same color and style and put them on.

Matching socks? Sorting by color? Folding t-shirts? HA! He laughs in the face of such nonsense.

I am not anal about many things. But laundry is one of them. I actually enjoy the mindlessness and simple organization it requires. Call me a weirdo, but there is nothing better than pouring a glass of wine, putting on an episode of Hoarders, and folding a load of fresh laundry. Who's with me?

The cheese stands alone.

Conversations Overheard

Tony: I'm going up to bed, you coming?

Me: Soon. I gotta do the dishes, bottles, laundry, all that bullshit.

Tony: It's not bullshit, it's our life!

Sigh... So true.

Then he helped me do all that bullshit. Life isn't that bad.