...Now bust out the snowboards and ice skates, my friends... Hell has frozen over.
I am absolutely, blindingly, sickeningly, maddeningly, and overwhelmingly in love. Usually, this would be the part where I turn from the computer, overcome with sudden intestinal distress and puke my brains out into the wastebasket. But, hand to God, I haven't so much as gagged, let alone let loose the vomitous flow that would usually follow such a nauseatingly sentimental statement. I'm tempted to blame my raging hormones... but something tells me that this may run a bit deeper than that. This isn't me bursting into tears because I can't fit my pants over my thighs anymore or flying into a rage because, "How many more days are you going to walk by the kitchen sink before you remember that that stinking pile of dirty dishes is yours and wash them already you self obsessed, inconsiderate, oblivious, slob?!" No, this is me about to sign my freedom and last name away under the belief that, unlike countless couples before us, we will make this work. Come hell, high water, a fat ass, or a receding hairline, we will stick it out. We can do better than our parents, our grandparents, and Pam Anderson. We... are obviously batshit insane. Anyone who gets married would have to be.
But we owe it to ourselves and to that rapidly growing bump in my maternity jeans that will one day be our legacy to at least try. And not try until something better comes along, or until it gets to be too much work, but really try. When after four sleepless months of being at the beck and call of a ten pound tyrant, the reality of what it means to be a stay at home mom hits and bitterness creeps in when I see Christian heading out the door to work and a few hours of freedom... When a few years from now I look around at all my friends and feel a heart wrenching ache for the newness of their adult lives, the freshness of their marriages, the endless possibilities still spread out in front of them... When we're at wit's end and it seems like the only way out is by with a liberal sprinkling of rat poison in the mashed potatoes. That's when we'll have our work cut out for us. That's when we will have to remember all of the reasons we're together to begin with and step back far enough to see the big picture. But I think we've got it in us. Enough love, determination, and hope to do it right. It's also very comforting to see that his father still has almost all of his hair.
So yeah. This month, Mr. A and I are going down to city hall to make an honest woman out of me. I should be terrified. Without the fanfare and distraction of a big, fouffy wedding, you'd think I would be reeling from the seriousness of it all. The commitment. But the truth of the matter is, I've already made the biggest commitment of my life. One that no amount of time, number of screwups, or team of lawyers can ever truly break. So marrying his father, well that just seems like a no-brainer.
The other day, I pulled a fortune from a cookie that said, "You will stumble into the path that will lead your life to happiness." ...Talk about a smart cookie.
With love and marriage,