Own the jackass.

One decade is a really long time.

Really. Long.

It’s, like, a really long time.

One decade is ten years, 3,650 days and for us, one decade is buying a house, raising a child, and doing a whole lot of growing up together.

Happy anniversary, babe.

I am not a fan of the mushy-gushy, but after being married to this guy for ten years, I’ll just say this… I am overwhelmed by the kind of man that my husband has grown into, turned into, and I’ve been able to watch the evolution from twenty-something boy to thirty-something man. And there’s this element that girls, women, when you find it, grab it. Never let it go. I was reminded about that on said anniversary.

Relationships are weird and wild, right? And if you know me through this little corner of the internet or if you know me in real life, I think you know that we’re on the road a lot, we work full-time jobs, we have our hands in a lot of side projects and overall, we’re just busy. Sometimes we might go a day without really talking or texting or Facetiming, depending on where we are. Sometimes we’re moving so fast we forget to slow down for the important moments. Sometimes we forget what makes us great.

And sometimes, we remember.

It was a rainy fall evening in September, our anniversary.

I was in the bathroom putting the last curl in my hair, ready for a dinner date with the hubs.

“Mama, your present is outside. You have to hit it reaaaaaly hard.”

That was my clue. And I was clueless.

I followed her on her excited jaunt to the front yard, underneath the apple trees. It was there that I found hubs, wearing a huge grin. He handed me a wooden stick. Next to him was a pinata, hanging from the apple tree. I was a little confused.

This wasn’t just a regular old pinata. It was special for two reasons. First, he (the king of selfie hate), had taken and printed a selfie and taped it to the face of the pinata. The pinata was in the shape of a donkey. Also known as an ass, a jackass.

This is my husband. He handed me the stick, put a red bandana over my eyes, and encouraged me to take a swing.

“For all the times I’ve been a jackass…”, he said.

Okay.

Batter up.

I swung and I swung and we laughed and we laughed and we laughed some more. At some point, the pinata exploded over the wet grass, and our daughter ran straight for what was inside. But inside wasn’t your typical pinata fixings. Inside was special too.

Inside was representative of the last ten years of our life. Inside was candy worms (I hate worms) an acrylic wine glass (I love wine and durability!), a welcome mat, and so many other things that gave me all the warm feels and reminded me of the journey we’ve been on this past decade. Out of this jackass, came all of the things that so beautifully make us who we are.

Our daughter ate the candy worms.

She also took a selfie with us.

Maybe you have found that special someone and maybe you haven’t. If you have, be sure you’re reminding them once in awhile how great your collective story is. Fight for it. Fight hard.

If you haven’t, I challenge you to look for someone with all of the qualities that are important to you, whatever they are. And as a small public service announcement, just stop waiting for the knight to ride in on his white horse. That Disney dream is a wonderful story but isn’t real life. Real life is more wonderful, because it’s so real. Anyhow, look for these things too:

• Look for someone who knows the value of a moment, of a memory.

• Look for someone who understands the meaning of adventure.

• Look for someone who knows the levity you need in what might be a dark moment or a heavy moment and find that person and let them bring that to you.

• Look for someone who wants to keep getting to know you, ten years later.

• Look for someone who wants to create something special for you, ten years later.

Okay, so that list got pretty long, kind of fast. Maybe just look for this one thing:

Find someone who fights hard to see you smile. All the time.

That jackass is yours. Own it, and own that sometimes you might be the jackass too.

XOXO

Find the passion, be the backbone.

I see you. And I'm talking to you.

I'm talking to you, the woman standing behind me in the grocery store checkout line. Your shopping cart is overflowing with cheerios and whole milk and dinner ingredients for your family. I recognize so much of what you're buying. The baby shampoo and the diapers and the dog food. I watched you toss the latest issue of Vogue on top of your whole-wheat bread and chardonnay. Good for you. The circles under your eyes are dark and I bet your to-do list is long.

I'm talking to you, the man sitting next to me in afternoon traffic. Your windows are rolled up and I see your hand anxiously tapping your steering wheel. You likely worked all day, suffered through yet another mindless meeting after meeting, or schedule full of conference calls and I bet you can't wait to get home to your family.

I'm talking to you, the mom at the baseball game or football game or volleyball game. You're standing on the sidelines and you're cheering. You're nervous and you're stressed, but you're excited and you're proud. You're making time to be right where you are, with snacks handy for the hungry and tired.

And I'm talking to you, the woman at the motocross race. Your clothes have gotten dirty and dusty and your hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail. Your brows are furrowed behind your sunglasses, but your lips are tightly smiling underneath your nude lipstick. There's dirt under your fingernails. Your eyes are focused everywhere, on your husband headed to the starting line and on your little one who can't wait for the swarm of bikes to hit the first turn. You didn't just show up. You've spent hours and days preparing for where you are right now. And I know the work won't stop when the race is over because there's another race next weekend. I am especially talking to you. I am you.

We are the backbones of our families. We don't have superman capes to wrap around our tired shoulders. We don't have secret hours to add into our days to get it all done.

We are the strength, the motivators, the voices to keep pressing on. We are the backbone and we drive the passion and we do it all, because doing it all is the kind of people we are.

Like me, you love being able to fulfill this role. You take comfort in the well-deserved thank-you and the extra long, extra tight hug at the end of the day. You don't offer the kind of support, both tactical and emotional, because you have to. You offer it because you want to, and because you can.

We all have a lot of different priorities that we can call jobs. I have my real job, my nine to five. It's my career, and I love it but it's also not all of who I am. I have my job as "mom" to our little one, which is a full time job, sometimes requiring around-the-clock alertness and focus. And then there's the job of being that backbone (or behind-the-scenes badass), and for me, it's a doozy.

The world of motocross is an incredible one. We are lucky to be part of such a strong community of racers, riders, fans, friends and families who call the sport their passion and their life. Each weekend spent at a track, I find myself having sweet and beautiful moments of reflection.

I'm hand-in-hand with our daughter. Her little fingers wrap around my palm, both our hands dirty from a combination of leftover peanut butter and a sprinkling of track dust. And we're there because we support. We respect the mental challenges it takes to be part of the sport. We understand the physical demands and rigorous training required to not only be a safe participant but also a competitor. We support the business and the politics and the time away from home that the industry requires and we do it all because it's part of who we are.

We stand for not only our own rider, but the entire community. We band together. As the backbone of strength, we watch each other's kids as our husbands hit the line. We cheer for the guy in dead last as enthusiastically as we cheer for the guy leading the pack, because he's someone's husband and dad too. And if someone gets hurt (because that happens), we do all we can to support - financially, emotionally. We do whatever we can.

And here's the truth - it's not always easy and it's not always fun. It's not always fair, either. There are days and nights that go without our own kind of support, and that I can do it all mentality wears and weakens us to the core. There are lonely dinner tables and empty beds.  There are our own personal priorities that sometimes find themselves in the backseat while we drive the dreams forward of those we love.

So why? Why do I find myself up late, pounding away on a keyboard, editing my husband's website or drafting documents for a passion project of his? Why is the writing of my own pieces reserved for naptimes or for those sacred hours I find when I wake up before our little girl on weekends? It's because doing these things are my passion too. My passion, our passion, is helping those we love find their own joy. That's where our joy comes from. And when I take time to focus on my own personal priorities, my family becomes the backbone that I need too.

XO,

Meagan