Ten years

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything deeply personal on this site, but today deserves an exception, for today is the tenth anniversary of my marriage.

Had you asked me in the summer of 2000 how life would play out, I would not have painted the picture I have now, living on the Upper West Side, preparing to send my oldest child to kindergarten in the city, getting ready to take a vacation in a car older than my wedding vows, four weeks into a new job, a dog come and gone from our family, living in a rented apartment after moving twice in fifteen months. Who could ever guess such things? Not I.

That said, here’s what I hoped would happen, all of which has played out to plan: I’m married, I have two wonderful boys, I’m thoroughly jazzed about my career, and I love the new apartment and the fact that I’m still in Manhattan. And I’m beyond lucky to be married to my wife, Amy, who is sharing this wonderful moment in time with me and, frankly, continuing to make everything in our lives happen the right way.

We’ve made each other laugh, we’ve consoled each other when we’ve cried, we’ve celebrated personal and professional victories large and small. We routinely sacrifice our own desires to accommodate the other. We brought two amazing people into this world and we strive as partners to give them all the love and support and perspective they can handle. We see the world the same way, and when we don’t, we learn from each other. We are smarter, savvier, more thoughtful people by virtue of our being together.

Since we got married, Amy and I have traveled the world, together and separate, across five continents. We’ve spoiled ourselves at amazing hotels and, at least once, feared for our well-being in another country. We’ve indulged in everything from business class international travel to $13 ninety-minute footrubs in Beijing (you have no idea). We have seen many a Broadway show and Hollywood movie. We’ve swooned over foods of all stripes, not least of which include a spicy tuna roll in the Village and a spaghetti with clams on Amsterdam Avenue. We’ve bought furniture, art, china, gadgets, real estate. Almost always, we’ve done these things as a team, by mutual decision or consent.

We’ve supported each other countless times and ways as our careers have evolved. Amy has watched me explore five (sheesh) full-time employers, a handful of startups and freelancing and consulting opportunities, business trips from Staten Island to Sydney, and two years in business school. I’ve watched her make it 13 years at the same job, going on film shoots from Punta del Este (I went on that one) to Prague (hey! I went on this one too), advancing to the upper ranks of her field, winning awards and producing work that has, on more than one occasion, become an instant classic.

I have often joked that I am so bad at project management that I married a producer for balance. Our marriage truly lets us play to our strengths. We are the epitome of balance, to the point where we subconsciously stagger our emotions when we’re sad, so each of us can take a turn providing support and perspective for the other. I conceptualize, Amy executes. She packs, I carry. Amy does most of the laundry, I do most of the grocery shopping. Unique? Probably not. Satisfying? Unspeakably so.

All of which is prelude and subordinate to the other members of our home, Nathan and Eli, who are pure bundles of joy and pride in our lives. Neither would be here without my wife’s sheer willpower and determination, in myriad ways, and neither would be as bright-eyed, responsible, organized or well-dressed without their mother’s magic touch. Not a day goes by that I am not appreciative of the sheer parenting that Amy puts into running our home.

Ten years of marriage, two careers and two kids often puts a relationship into an operational mode. It’s rare that we get a chance to reflect on things and enjoy the moment. So we took a night for ourselves this week, going out to a fancy dinner to celebrate our enduring love as a couple; and tomorrow, we head to Martha’s Vineyard—our eighth visit to the island together—for a week away with the kids. It’s a great way to cap a milestone in our lives.

A few weeks ago, when I had to take our sick toddler to the pediatric emergency room, and my wife was orchestrating our well-being from two thousand miles away, and her sister the doctor was checking in on us feverishly while talking to both our pediatrician and our ENT, and a swarm of family support rained down, I took to Facebook and posted, simply, “I married well.” I couldn’t have been more accurate.

I love you, Amy. Here’s to many more decades of great things together.