Eight Years Later . . .

Eight years ago today I woke up with my family around me, showering me with attention, compliments, praise and excitement.  I spent the morning being pampered and made beautiful by a makeup artist and hairstylist. I was the center of attention as I retold the story of our courtship and engagement.

Just the two of us

A sacred ceremony, beautiful photographs, tears of joy, words of tribute, and celebrations with family and friends filled the afternoon followed by a perfect blend of making googly-eyes at my new husband and stealing as many kisses as possible.

Honeymoon

The evening was all about the two of us.  Two newlywed lovebirds beginning our new life together as husband and wife.  Madly in love, dreaming about the future and what it might hold.  Wondering where we might be five, ten, fifty years from now.

Eight years later my sweetheart is a thousand miles away on a work trip in Saipan.  My morning was spent convincing a sleepy five-year-old girl to get out of bed because yes, school is every day; then holding my nose as I threw away yet another pair of underwear that just got pooped in.  Frantically doing Tired Five-Year-Old's hair while scrubbing down Almost Potty-Trained in the tub.  Making sure the little newborn was fed before rushing Tired Five-Year-Old off to her second day of school.

Tired Five-Year-Old on her way to school

Adorable Newborn

Almost Potty-Trained Rambunctious 3-year-old

Running errands, breaking up sibling rivalries, helplessly consoling a screaming baby while driving in circles around a parking lot waiting for the library to open, losing patience with Tired Five-Year-Old, feeling guilty for losing patience with Tired Five-Year-Old, reading stories to a three-year-old and feeding and changing a newborn are the activities that filled the afternoon followed by waiting in the drive through a second time because they put pickles on Tired Five-Year-Old's cheeseburger, more running around, more nursing, changing diapers, scrubbing pee out of carpets, cleaning spit-up out of my hair and clothes, begging kids to eat and a quick telephone conversation with my husband of eight years.

Anniversary text message exchange:

Me: I miss you . . . outside with the kids while they play. Call me when you have a min.

Him: Just hitting McDonald's for lunch. I'll call you in ten.

Me: Hey, we had McDonald's for lunch today too! It's like our  anniversary date!

Him: Maybe I'll order a Rolo McFlurry.

Me: It IS a special occasion.

Oh the difference eight years can make.  We grow older, our bodies get a little mushier, our faces reveal some age spots, perhaps a few stray grays have made occasional appearances, the bikini days of our honeymoon long gone replaced by a few stretch marks, some cellulite and eyes that have obviously been lacking sleep.  A child in kindergarten, a rambunctious little boy and a newborn baby.  World traveling replaced by Wal-mart runs for milk in the middle of the night. Spontaneous date nights replaced by macaroni and cheese. Heels and French manicures replaced by sweats and ponytails.

And yet . . .

Eight years later I couldn't be happier.  Happy Anniversary Babe.