Eight years ago today, I woke up to a sunny June morning outside the expansive windows of a penthouse suite overlooking Madison's Lake Monona. Surrounded by my best friends who shared that suite with me on my last night as a single girl, I was ready to get up, get pretty, and get into that dress I'd been dreaming of since I was old enough to grasp the importance of the big white dress. I stood at the window watching the sun sparkle on the lake, thinking of my groom a few floors below and our families who'd worked so hard with us to make this day come to reality, wondering how I'd gotten so lucky with this life.
This morning? I woke with heartburn and an aching back and a cat on my pillow staring me down. The sparkling lake? Replaced with a toy-strewn house and something sticky on the kitchen floor. And upstairs? A & V, up a good half hour before I usually expect to hear a peep out of anyone (and HOURS before Miss V usually graces us with her presence), wrestling over the play toaster in the playroom. I sat up in bed to choke down my heartburn meds, shook off the cat hair, and went upstairs to break up the brawl, which by then had turned into shrieks of laughter from pantless littles. Lucky, I am, just in every different way than that girl of 8 years ago. The groom's at work, but tonight, we'll have a very romantic celebration. And by that I mean we'll eat our steak and crab legs to a Caillou soundtrack, and watch The Bachelorette over a bowl of Ben & Jerry's before I chew a pile of Tums and pass out for the night just shy of 10:00pm.
You know what? I wouldn't change a thing (except the heartburn, I'd totally change that). These eight years, they've been titled "growth". Learning. Learning to share a life, learning to buy houses, learning to sell houses, learning to deal when the shit hits the fan and the options look bleak. Pets and travel and spats over who used the last egg and didn't add eggs to the grocery list. And babies. Praying for babies, mourning babies, celebrating babies, going "OMG ANOTHER BABY?!" Bigger houses, bigger vehicles, all in the name of accommodating all those babies. Bills, bills, bills. Three cross-country moves, each a little more insane than the one before it. The first? Me, J, the FIL, and a U-Haul. The third? Months of preparations, logistical planning, reserving semi-trucks, and a fair dose of stress .... before we've packed a single box or put a cat (or three) in a car, even.
I think the next 8 years will be about settling in, breathing in, enjoying things at a slightly less hectic pace. Watching babies grow, replacing baby gear with Barbies and Legos, planning adventures with not-so-little-littles. A 10th anniversary celebration we're dreaming of that looks more wedding day, less everyday. Maybe even staying in a house longer than 3 years (please, yes). Whatever it brings, I'm lucky. Lucky to have J by my side through it all. Happy 8 years to you, J! Thanks for sticking with me through all the crazy!
hi! welcome to my blog, where i write about our life in durango, colorado. mostly i write about being a sahm to our three: anderson, vivian, and the newest addition, mabel gray (mg, mabes, etc.) yeah, three babies in just under four years. wheeeeeee! sometimes i write about stuff other than the mom stuff. like ... um ... okay, it's pretty much all about the mommyness up in here. i own it.