On Monday, Dave and I had a 'disagreement'. It was one of those moments when one person says something and it shoots straight into the other's brain and triggers all the hidden buttons of insecurity, identity and fear. On the face of it, we were merely discussing my lack of enthusiasm for a planned outing for Dave and his friends (right through crazy hour), but the undercurrents of the moment went much deeper. Or so at least I thought.

We celebrated our eleventh anniversary on Sunday.

When I write that down I feel strange. How on earth could that amount of time have already passed us by? It feels like yesterday that we were perched in the boot of my yellow Cruze, strumming the guitar and hanging out in The Den at our university. Dave still mocks me about my overconfidence in my squash skills as I challenged him to a match in our early days of hanging out. I lost. Though, I believe I might have been playing in heels.... (there is a slight chance I could have inserted that part into the memory to make myself feel better).

We were young, passionate, driven by urgency to make our lives 'count', moved by compassion and hope. Dave poured his energy into running events to bring people together for a common cause- hurting souls.

My journalling at the time reveals a heart desperate to make the right choice, to align my future with someone who would cherish and appreciate me, encourage me and spur me on. His letters touch on the need to make his life count and to have someone who would walk alongside him into the unknown.

Dave and I look back at the youthful 'us' and shake our heads sometimes. Really, did we have any idea what we were doing? Him, barely 22 and me, 20?! It sounds so crazy now, and I have no doubt our family and friends would have worked hard not to express doubts or fears at the time.

And yet, it has somehow worked....

We have lived in seven different dwellings throughout our marriage, even back with my parents for a period while we saved to travel to Europe for my sister's wedding. We lived in tiny apartments as budget conscious students, church housing while Dave was employed as a Youth and Young Adults worker, on campus at a college sharing meals in a big dining hall, shared a house with Alex and Monica with our young toddlers (each of us with another on the way). We've travelled through South-East Asia, New Zealand, Italy and Poland. We've been research assistants, sandwich artists, store managers, church workers, volunteers, students, articled clerks, lawyers, teachers, pastors, church planters and parents.

It is a whirlwind of memories, locations and shared experiences.

There have been difficult moments- car crashes, surgeries, a miscarriage, extended hospital visits for two of our newborns, extended and complicated labours, sleepless nights, fights, disagreements, tears, a moment where our house dreams almost collapsed (until our very generous housemates lent us a significant amount of money), we've been victims of cyclo scammers in Vietnam, come close to hitting zero in our bank account, experienced crises of faith, lost almost eleven years of memories stored on a broken hard drive (I still get teary when I think of that one), we've been burnt out in positions of leadership... but we have survived.

Marriage is a bit of an enigma. You can think you have it all figured out, and then suddenly one comment can make you think as if you were completely mistaken. So much in our communication is tied up in our previous experiences together and what those words might have meant in the past. The care that we would take in our conversations with others can be discarded and we show our grumpy and exhausted faces to each other instead. Expressing excitement at the other's gain, when we know it means our immediate loss, can be difficult, even if you grudgingly admit it is what they need to hear. As a parent, outings and spare time can become transactional, and a chalkboard ledger hovers ominously in the background for either to wield against the other.

And yet... true freedom in marriage only comes when someone takes a step first. To lay down their 'rights' to privileges or expectations. To say sorry even if the words catch coming out. To be willing not to rehash past wrongs, and accept an apology. Realising that your partner will disappoint you and hurt you, often without meaning to. Dave is a lot better at this abdication than I. He is quick to forgive, slow to anger, and does not hold onto past wrongs. (He may lack the memory capacity for that last one, I suspect!)

After our Monday disagreement, many words were used to work out why it was such a big deal to both of us. I have a little more understanding about my own identity struggles and the need to be affirmed as a good 'supporter' and 'helper' to Dave. Also, to be seen as the laid back, easy going wife who lets her husband do anything. It isn't really the whole picture.

Marriage. It certainly isn't easy, and the pressures of parenthood press down to reveal the weak points you never suspected existed. Eleven years in and I feel as if I have only uncovered a small fraction of this puzzle, but I am so thankful and grateful to have someone so incredible to learn alongside.

David Colin Edwin Hughes, you are an amazing, inspiring, visionary, passionate man. A father to our kids beyond what I could have hoped for. I love doing life with you. Thank you for encouraging me, cherishing me, pushing me and contradicting me when I try to hang onto misconceptions. Despite the sheer number of ideas and visions you  have conceived, I am excited to see which seeds blossom into vivid realities and I know you will continue to make your significant mark on this world into the future. You have made a inconceivable mark on us already.

Whenever we would hop into the car, Eli would pipe up and ask "Are we going to the big place?" As I was planning our trip, I had shown him photos of the towering curved building in the center of Canberra that had a pool and tennis court and since that time he had been counting down until he could revel in these wonders.

We learned from our previous mistakes and left early this time, managing to arrive at BreakFree Centrepoint around 1pm. Thankfully, our room was ready and we eagerly crammed ourselves and our luggage into the lift and headed up to the seventh floor. After spending two nights in very close quarters we were delighted to find a long apartment with thick walled bedrooms and our very own balcony overlooking the much anticipated pool. The boys were very excited, Hudson announcing to everyone in the lift that it was his birthday (it wasn't) and "my go to Kinder!" (he doesn't). Eli played the role of superior elder brother flawlessly, raising one eyebrow in a skeptical look to contradict him.

Revelling in being in a central location, we decided to hit the ground walking and investigated the two funky cafes opposite our building, Mocan & Green Grout quickly becoming our local for a double shot latte and Twenty One for gourmet groceries and sweet treats. We loaded up on regional 'Amara' wine, olives and Milano salami and traipsed back to our apartment for an indoor picnic.

I was relieved to see that there was an Aldi in Canberra Centre and we went for a drive that afternoon. Let's just say I never want to return to that shopping center again. Twenty minutes later I emerged from the confusing complex, having familiarised myself with pretty much every elevator and stairwell, but with absolutely nothing to show for it. The worst part is that I could see my destination from the top level but could not figure out how the hell to get there! Dave was skeptical that it could be that difficult and made plans to return the next morning to conquer the challenge, but we ended up changing our route at the last minute so he'll never know!

Having left without anything even remotely resembling dinner, we had to think on the fly, settling on the option being loudly and insistently repeated from the backseat- 'CHICKEN NUGGETS!'. After navigating our way to two different McDonalds that did not have drive thru, we eventually found one and made it home with five tired and grumpy passengers. Eli had been dressed in anticipation for a pool excursion, so Dave took him down just before bedtime for a quick dip. Hudson and I watched them and called out to them from our balcony for a while but then all hell broke loose upstairs. In short, there were not enough hands, not enough wipes and not enough patience for untimely bowel movements mixed with bath time. Bedtime was a very welcome event that evening.

We made our way to Questacon bright and early the next morning, having discovered we could get free tickets on our Museum Victoria membership. It was amazing! The kids more or less wandered through the galleries, but a number of interactive exhibits could have entertained them for hours. The Mini Q discovery center on the ground level was incredible, with a mini bakery, hospital, mechanic, and construction zone, a jungle gym, water play area and space discovery station. Even Ivy was entertained with the padded baby zones for her to explore. The difficult part was convincing the kids that we had to leave because our session had come to an end. That they were 'not impressed' is something of an understatement.

That afternoon we made the most of the heated outdoor pool, Dave like a magnet with two clinging boys hanging tight to either side. Ivy and I relaxed on a banana lounge, watching the splashing and fun with (shivering and) amusement. Dinner that evening was a frozen pizza affair, with strawberry cheesecake and fresh fruit on the side.

A number of times throughout the city stint, Dave expressed his keen affection for Canberra. I think it was a combination of the rural setting, the relaxed inhabitants, the hipster coffee spots, the myriad of bike paths and the air of something important happening close by. Street signs that pointed to federation and imposing structures that loomed overhead, demanding respect and attention. I doubt very much that we will be moving to this tiny metropolis, but it was quite evocative to gaze out at her twinkling lights in the evenings over a glass of Shiraz, imagining the stories that are being (and have been) created in this very place.

My one criteria in booking places for our holidays is that they must exude 'character'. I can put up with a lot in terms of lack of convenience if the abode possesses this mysterious quality. Sometimes this factor becomes our downfall, and other times it pays off in spades. This time... I'm not so sure.

By the time we were half an hour out from our destination, it was getting pretty grim. Two out of three were cracking it and we were nearing the witching hour where all would need food before they settled down again. "Just call and order pizza in Bemboka", Dave helpfully suggested. Google produced no leads, however, and we soon discovered why- even the town (and I use this term loosely) General Store was 'closed until further notice'. Oh dear. We pressed on, no dinner supplies, and the minutes striding by. 

Giba Gunyah Country Cottages finally loomed into view and we cautiously stepped into our little cottage. Hexagonally designed, it was quaint and rustic, and it did have that elusive quality I specified. Still, spending two nights in a tiny two bedroom shack with paper thin walls in the company of a snorer and three restless children made me feel a little apprehensive. 

On the way I had remarked to Dave how inspired I was by the concept that Dan Barber had alluded to in the recent episode of Chef's Table when he suggested all great cuisines were borne out of scarcity and hardship, forcing creativity from limited ingredients. Well, I got my chance to practice my newfound vision that evening. Though, I should mention, we were saved considerably by the provision of fresh breakfast supplies in the cottage. Pantry items: fresh bread, eggs, carrots, butter, marmalade and baby spinach. Half an hour later we tucked into sunny side up eggs on crusty bread, with a side of marmalade sauted carrots and fresh greens. Eli exclaimed, "this is my favorite meal!"

The setting of the cottage was pure magic. Nestled into a valley, with rolling hills to either side, calves grazing by our back fence and creeping blossoms spilling over the verandah. Eli and Hudson basked in the sun, squirting each other with their water toys and practicing cricket skills into the twilight. Misty, the family dog, came to join in the fun and relished playing catch, though was somewhat perplexed by the concept of returning the ball. 

We took a jaunt into Bega and enjoyed our new staple picnic of fresh bread and salami, stopping off at a local playground and, of course, an op shop, thanks to which I am now the proud owner of two right footed slippers. Whoops. 

Dave and I spent our nights by the roaring fire, sampling Pinot Noir and challenging each other to read chapters of random books adorning the shelves. We managed to get through the nights, strategizing with various adult/child configurations so we could avoid repeating the first night mishap of Eli flooding the living room (where Ivy was sound asleep) with light because he had a bad dream and couldn't figure out which room we were in.

I'm so chuffed that the boys got to experience a rural getaway, it brought back so many memories of my own childhood jaunts to my grandparents' farm and walks through the paddocks to their billabong. Plucking wild blackberries and picking up bleached cattle bones as we walked. Stepping cautiously (petrified!) around sleeping snakes on the dusty path. The muffled creak of tired floorboards as we tiptoed up the hallway to snuggle under frilly floral bedspreads. The sound of trilling birds welcoming us to the morning and the carefully labeled homemade jam, ginger beer, relish and fruit leather collections. I remember serenading the family with the assistance of the electric organ and opening matching Christmas presents with lollipops taped to the festive paper. It is such a privilege to be able to share some of this with the boys and see their faces light up as they make their own treasured memories.