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.
I am tolerating you.
Last fall, Ellie brought her very first school pictures home:
As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfect. I have so many photos of the kids being their goofy selves, adding one posed photo to the mix is a nice change of pace. Just look at that face! Only five, and she’s already perfected her politely disinterested smile. Adorable.
What I didn’t realize is that our school does pictures twice per year–once in the fall, and again in the spring. I’m not sure why they do this…maybe it was easier than having a make-up picture day for all the kids who missed the first one. Whatever.
I didn’t pay much attention to the whens and wheres of the second picture day, which became painfully obvious when she brought this home:
The real me. Take it or leave it.
I LOVE IT.
The pink shirt under the red and yellow dress (note the untied bow) with the olive green bracelet and necklace. What you can’t see from my crappy iPhone photo-of-a-photo is the royal purple pants. All on a pretty bright green spring background. The only thing we’re missing is the wild, tangled hair, and I’m sure that’s because the photographer was nice enough to comb it for her.
And the smile! So confident, bright, and vibrant. When I see this picture, all I can think is, “There’s my girl!”
Sure, the first one is cute in a “My mom made me wear this sweater and brush my hair” kinda way, but the second picture is the true Ellie, and the one I want to remember in ten years–my messy, lovely little lady who unapologetically rocks a style all her own.
Yes, it’s a lot of work, and yes, there are many days when I just want to hide under a blanket until they go to sleep… but moments like this make it totally worth it.