'a fool could see just how much i adore you...'

Last Sunday night, my Tool Man and I capped off the weekend at our small group gathering. As you might remember from last week, we're in the midst of a sermon series about strengthening marriages and personal relationships, and last week's topic was how we persevere during difficult times.

(btw - this week's "That's what she said!" moment came courtesy of my friend Tim, who, while sharing what his wife does to appreciate him, cheered, "I don't know what it is she's doing, but she sure knows how to rub me the right way!" It wasn't exactly as great as last week's smoked meat delight, but still! Cha-ching! Thanks for that deposit in the Bank of Awesome! Earlier in the day, Seth, my inner 14 year old boy, had been all, "But I wanna go to the mall and hang out with my friends tonight, man! Don't make me go to small group! Let me swallow this bitter pill with a chug offa that whine, dude," but as soon as Tim shared his respects, Seth totally tapped my shoulder and was all, "You're freakin' awesome, Old Lady I Live In!" and I was all, "As if you didn't already know that, Seth," and then we did this little finger wiggle high 5 thing we always end up messing up.)

As the couples around us chattered about never going to bed angry, talking openly about problems, and not holding grudges, I leaned over Tool Man, patted his knee, and whispered, "Isn't it great we've been married all this time and have never had an argument, dear?"

"Sure," my sweet talkin' man said.

"'Sure'? What do you mean 'Sure'?! Dude! We have NEVER had an argument!" I responded. If you'd seen me, you'd have totally said my gritted teeth looked like a smile.

"Honey," Tool Man whispered. "You're right. We've never had an argument."

"Oooh! Give Momma some more of that good, good stuff!" I whispered back

"You're right. You're always right," Tool Man replied.

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. That's what I like to hear!" I quietly cheered. "Also? Trust I'm never going to refer to myself as 'Momma' ever again."

"Good," Tool Man said. "And you realize, right, that we have had arguments in our marriage, don't you?"

"When? Tell me one time we've argued," I said.

It was Tool Man's turn to pat my knee. "Well, what about right now?"

"This? This is more of a discussion," I said.

"Exactly. This is how we argue. Two passive-aggressive people, just hanging out, having a little discussion, maybe getting some dinner," he said.

"You're right. You're not always right, but in this case, you're right," I said.

"Damn right, Momma," he said.

I'm sure there are some who would say arguing is good for a couple, that it can be a necessary tool in a relationship for partners to get to know each other better. I won't deny that there have been times I've tried to goad Tool Man into a cage match, but today's our 14th wedding anniversary, and if that's the reward for not arguing, then I'll take it. The dude is pretty damn awesome. Want to know why? OK, I'll tell you:

• For putting up with the porn sounds I made while watching him clean out our garage!
• For dancing with me in said garage once we could see the floor again. Club mix, yo!
• Except it turned into a slow dance, with the garage door open and the cul-de-sac to see, which was awesome!
• For giving me a kid who will run to the bus stop with me humming the Indiana Jones theme.
• For always being my big strong man and squeezing my tuna. My can of tuna. Dude, seriously.
• For the compassion he has for others, including our friends and the random old school celebrity.
• For routinely taking bets on how many bites of my dinner I'll be able to take before spilling food down my chest (For the record, the average is eight).
• For initiating me into the wacker club.

Most of all, I dig my Tool Man for standing with me, and often holding me up, during the last few years, the ones that absolutely qualify as the hardest of our marriage simply by proxy of what was going on in our lives at the time. There were countless opportunities to argue during that time, and never once did he step into that arena, and for that, there's not enough in the world I could give him to repay him.

Every night Tool Man and I have gotten into bed together (including those before we were married, but shhhh....), we've fallen asleep holding the other's hand. I'm not going to lie. That habit makes it a little hard for me to read before drifting off, and probably is to blame for the stacks of books I'm slowly working my way through, but you know what? If someone like Tool Man is going to put up with someone like me for 14 years, I'll hold his hand. I'm not going to argue with the man.

I'm also seriously never going to refer to myself as 'Momma' ever, ever again.