You know that thing where you wake up on a Saturday and your bed isn’t full of small children and stuffed animals? And your husband is there, and he’s all warm and smells nice and it makes you think, hmm, maybe…and so you kiss him, and you’re thinking, yeah, this is nice…so cozy…
…and suddenly, a flurry of thundering footsteps, a stampede of one. A young child, sensing a disturbance in the force, bursts through the door and flies into the bed, wedging herself directly between the two of you, crushing a few of your more sensitive body parts in the process.
Happy (belated) anniversary to us!
(And yay for bedroom door locks.)
I was going through old photographs after Dad passed with the intention of putting together a photo book, and came across some of my really old stuff.
It reminded me that Tim and I started dating 15 years ago. He was obviously my favorite subject, with a few dramatic selfies (which were not called selfies back then) thrown in for good measure. Man, we were young.
Happy 15 years, love. Let’s make the most of all the years yet to come.
While in Portland, I celebrated seven years of wifehood to this guy:
A+++, would marry again
We’re about as fancy with our anniversary as we were about our actual wedding, which is to say, not very. But the weekend wasn’t all about WordCamp; we had a delicious dinner at Petite Jacqueline and I indulged in a 60-minute massage at Akari as an anniversary present.
And yes, there was cake.
More importantly, I got to spend five days with my best friend, something I’m lucky enough to do every day, but this time without life’s usual interruptions. That was a gift in and of itself.
We’ve been married for as many years as we were together before we made it official, and we’ve had our share of ups and downs, but I have to thank him for his unwavering faith in our ability to grow together (rather than apart), and I have to thank my seventeen-year-old self for having the wherewithal to pick a good one the first time around. 🙂
Happy seven years, love.