Ahhh, three years in the books.
The only thing that means is that I’ve spent 2/3rds of our married life pregnant. Geeeez.
Ok, it means some other things, too. Lots and lots of good things.
I’m pretty proud of us, I think we’re a rather good little married couple. We fight and yell and drive each other nuts. We roll eyes and give looks and have incredibly dysfunctional moments. But we also hug and kiss and say I love you. We pray and walk and watch Cardinals games together. He whines at me for spending money, I whine at him for golfing. He gets heated, I pout and say, “I’m fiiiiiiine!”
But that’s how it’s supposed to go, right? I mean, it feels right. Good and bad, give and take; all that nonsense. The most important part was that we meant what we said three years ago. We believed in our vows, in each other, and in our marriage… and we’re still chugging along rather happily. We know that our fights aren’t deal breakers, they don’t end anything – we promised each other they wouldn’t. They just mean some days we have to try harder than others.
But most of the time it feels like we don’t try at all. It’s pretty easy sailing around here.
Easy, fast sailing.
It feels like it’s been 10 years and 10 minutes all at once. So much has happened in three years, yet somehow it was just yesterday, right? I mean do we really have a toddler with a baby on the way? We really have a mortgage and a minivan? Yikes. We used to be so cool.
Cool or not – I still like him. I’d pick him all over again if I had to, I’m most positive of that. He’s still got that big, bald head I love so very much. He’s still nicer to me than he should be. He’s still smokin’ hot in black socks half way up his legs and sandals. But it’s the moments when he throws food into the air at the dinner table and catches it in his mouth for the soul purpose of making Leah laugh, or when he serenades her with Leanne Rhymes version of “Blue” while she’s in the bathtub – that I really know…
I would most definitely still pick him.
He’s good to me, really he is. But he is something else when it comes to Leah. Talk about melting a heart – watching such a good daddy play with a little girl that adores him… nothing else compares to that. And I fall in love over and over and over.
But enough of the sap. Man, I hate it. You should have seen me in the card isle today (I mean two days ago because I was totally prepared) – I couldn’t even get through them without rolling my eyes. Seriously, cards are ridiculous. Especially the love ones. Blah. You should see the one I got… Lord. It was my best option, I promise. But he wanted to do cards… and I love him… so I did it.
But here’s all I really need to say (why you need to hear it I have no idea, but listen anyways):
Three years ago put an exclamation point on four and a half years of dating. Two months after I met him I starting planning that day, and he was always at the end of the aisle (seriously, which isle is which?!). He was there cause he’s funny and smart and hot and gets me. Because he’s genuine and honest and he loves God. He was there cause he’s strong and athletic and a little bit of an idiot. Three years later and I’d put him right back at the end of the isle. For all of those same reasons, but I’d add the facts that he’s a rock star of a dad, he works his tail off for his family, and he mows the lawn. He makes sure we pay the credit card on time, and he brings me brownies home from work.
He’s still my favorite, and I’d still pick him.
Always and forever.
Because that’s how all the good anniversary cards end.
My hair looked much prettier this day three years ago.