A full-time job, a commute, a toddler,a dog, a cat, a freelance business, an upcoming art show, a side business, three blogs, one online store, multiple twitters, facebooks, tumblr, pinterest, etc., etc., etc.

24 hours. Two people.

Something ends up giving, and sadly, what usually gives first is time together. We retreat to our corners, we work weekends, I’m on the computer upstairs, he’s painting in the office downstairs. It’s not always like this, but right now, things are kind of insane in our house, and so we power through with our heads down and grab an hour here, 30 minutes there.

That’s no way to sustain a marriage.

So I got this idea in my head last week–why not take Tuesday off work, take one of my precious precious PTO days, and celebrate my husband’s birthday with a full day, just the two of us? A day of holding hands and talking, a day without wrangling a two year old, a day with no agenda and no goals and no point other than just be together. The kid would be in daycare, so we wouldn’t have to pay for a sitter, and we’d get a full day, just the two of us. I think the last time that happened was our anniversary day in Vegas…last May.

So that’s what we did. We got nine full hours to just hang out together. We went and had a leisurely breakfast. We wandered around some funky little shops. We stopped in a cafe for a pastry and coffee (for N.C.). We went and did a little clothes shopping. We had a long, leisurely lunch complete with mid-afternoon cocktails. We wandered some more. We held hands, and we talked, and we laughed.

It was amazing. It was nothing special, and yet it was one of the best birthday celebrations I’ve ever planned for N.C.

It reminded me so much of our time living in the New York area. We would often spend weekend days just wandering through the city, or through Jersey City where we lived, finding little spots to eat, popping into a new store just because it looked fun to wander through.

We would window shop, letting ourselves wander wherever the urge led us. We spent a lot of our limited disposable income on food, and we’d pop into restaurants where we’d split one dish so we could go to the restaurant across the street and have something there too. Or we’d find a small little bar and linger over a drink or two with an appetizer before heading home to eat our “real” meal.

We were excellent linger-ers (but great tippers, so most places didn’t mind).  Talking for hours over a drink–debating, conspiring, planning, daydreaming. And plenty of silliness and laughing.

Always, always laughing.

Yesterday was like those days in New York. It was a day of the two of us, being silly, talking, conspiring, wandering. lingering, laughing, and just being together. It was a day where we weren’t consumed with bills and deadlines, with work and logistics, with the toddler’s needs and the dog’s needs and the cat’s needs and the needs of any other thing…except the need for the two of us to spend time together. The need to make time with each other more important than anything else. The need to take the time to just be together.

*For any locals–we went to St. Germain’s Cafe for breakfast, St. Tropez Bakery & Bistro for pastry & coffee, and Solace and The Moonlight Lounge for lunch/drinks. All three in Encinitas and all three were astoundingly good.

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I’ve had people ask me before what it’s like to be married to an artist. I think what people really mean is “what’s it like to live with someone so creative all the time” but the reality is that every artist (like every person) is probably different. My husband, for example, is definitely not the stereotype of the flaky, flighty, head-in-the-clouds artist. In another life, in fact, my husband probably would have been a scientist of some kind, or maybe an engineer.

That said, he IS creative. He looks at the world in a much different way than I look at the world, and that difference can be astounding in how we approach everything from how to paint the living room to what to have for dinner to how we figure out our budget. His creativity is a wonderful thing, but one that I admit I don’t always have ANY idea what to do with.

There’s no way to really encompass what it’s like to live with every artist. There’s no way to really even encompass what it’s like to live with THIS artist. It’s so many wonderful, frustrating, awesome, bizarre, funny things that just…ARE. But there are some hints I can share. Being married to an artist can be:

• paint flecks in all your sinks
• pens you aren’t allowed to touch
• animals who have learned not to walk on the art
• art supplies in every room in the house
• another trip to Michael’s/Aaron Brothers/Blick
• “one minute while I sketch this idea”
• spending more on paints and paper and other supplies than you spend on clothes
• “hey, can you pose for me real quick?”
• more clothes covered in paint than not
• seeing the point when a person becomes an object when they’re being drawn
• constant explanations of what font is on a menu/sign/billboard/commercial
• more images in the “morgue file” on your computer than there are pictures of your kid
• rewatching title credits on movies to see the animations again
• hours of DVD extras looking at art/storyboards/how-they-did-thats
• “no honey, those are daddy’s paints, not yours”
• doodles on old bills
• hand-drawn cards and gifts (sometimes)
• the most awesome nursery ever

…among other things.

Mostly, being married to an artist, for me, has meant that I’ve had years of learning to look at the world differently. I may never see the details and shades my husband does, but I’ve learned to look for more than just the surface. It’s opened my eyes to see angles and curves and colors and shadows I’d never have looked for on my own. The world looks different when I try to view it the way my husband does…and a new perspective is always a good thing (even if the paint in the sink does drive me nuts).

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