Homecoming. I once dreaded this weekend. There was nothing redeeming about it for me. Well, almost nothing. Who dresses up for a football game? Who hangs out in a nasty fraternity house? Who…who…who…? I dreaded it. And never once did I think, for many years, how this made Husband feel. Did he notice my anxiety? My resentment? I suspect he did.

A couple of years ago I decided I would not behave like, well, a rotten, spoiled, college girl. I decided I would behave like a woman. A woman married to a man devoted to his wife and his family first and his fraternity after. I made a conscious decision to change the way I looked at the weekend. And y’know what? Each year I’ve enjoyed it a little more. This year, I really enjoyed the weekend.

With more preparation than in years past, I was generally more prepared to welcome Husband’s fraternity brother for his stay with us. Don’t get me wrong, I was still running around like a mad woman as he arrived, but it was different. Because I made it different. I chose to let it be different. 

 

I was racing around. We were expecting more friends over for drinks at any moment. Our sitter was a dream come true in helping me ready the house. I promised Husband I would chill while I was in the shower and that I would be fine when I stepped out. It’s so easy for me to get worked up and stay worked up. It’s in my wiring, I think. But I didn’t let the wiring make its own way that night. Nor for the rest of the weekend. When I stepped out of the bedroom done up in the new sweater he’d bought me that afternoon and with a fresh layer of make-up and clean hair, I was chill. I chose to be chill.

My Husband wanted me to be beside him. He wanted me to relax and enjoy his friends, our friends as much as he would that weekend. And I did. What was a conscious decision in the beginning became a natural, calm weekend with our family and our friends. And never has it ever been a better Homecoming.

Homecoming weekend I fed my Husband my time and attention. Not a perfect tailgate buffet. Not perfectly styled kids. Not even the sexiest outfits. I fed him me. I let the facades that don’t matter disappear and I gave him my focus on him, our family, and his friends. I still don’t know for what AEKDB stands, but after this weekend, because I paid attention without allowing myself to be distracted, I know I don’t need to know.

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