Two weeks ago, when I encouraged my husband to "bring home the trophy" from his annual fishing tournament, for which I told him I'd have a place waiting, I wasn't prepared for him to actually do so. (disclaimer: his fishing skills were never in question, my OCD was) When I got the call that he had won the annual fish-off with his life long friends, I was genuinely thrilled for him. I was also mentally strategizing where this thing would reside for the next year, knowing that banishing it to the office would be kind of crappy of me.
Since I don't have that old club-house feeling in my living-room and I'm sort of off on clutter these days (not that the trophy is clutter), finding a good home for this puppy is my challenge. I don't have the heart to relegate it to a bottom cubby in the shelving thing-a-ma-jig that it's currently sitting front and center on. I did think about hitting an antique store or two in search of some smaller "vintage" trophies to create a little vignette with, but that would sort of take some of the spotlight off of this cup and really cement my insanity in the minds of most.
I really don't want my husband to feel like he's not represented or has no say in the space we all share, but I fear that sometimes this is the case. I try to include him in my musings, but my brain is usually on overdrive when it comes to this stuff. Sometimes, I know I must seem unreasonable, like when it comes to the height and placement of artwork, or my need to add trim to the curtains that are just shy of touching the floor. The man has patience. A smile and shake of the head is usually the most response he gives when he comes home from work to a room in disarray because something wasn't working for me. He doesn't bat an eyelash when I sit back and smile and remark about how much better all that rearranging makes me feel.
All that said, harmony is what I'm after. The trophy is really not so ugly. She's not exactly the leg lamp from A Christmas Story (although we have one of those to contend with too). Honestly, looks and my OCD aside, she is a great emblem of the bond my husband and his childhood friends share. Their collective friendship is enviable and enduring. They are phenomenal guys, fantastic husbands and hands-on dads. I admire their loyalty and the work they put into maintaining their connection, no easy feat with demanding jobs and growing families. They have also married amazing women, with whom I've been lucky enough to find friendship, laughter and support through the years.
So today while the kids nap, I'll be tweaking, editing and rearranging (without cringing or disparaging remarks) to give my husband's well-earned trophy a rightful place of honor. He really deserves it.
Have any of you ever struggled or fumbled when incorporating one of your partner's treasures into your home? Please tell me I'm not alone ; )