Being one of the younger gals in my ever-growing group of
lady friends to be married with children, I feel this is a great place to tell
the better part of my “How We Met and Fell Madly in Love” story. Needless to say I’d like to
use this post, the whole thing, to talk about my marriage. I had just broken free of the longest (9 months), easily
worst, relationship in my freshly turned 19 years and started working rather
recently at the local Buffalo Wild Wings. Yes, I can hear all of you sigh that
exasperated sigh only a veteran restaurant employee can sigh when learning of a
romance that bloomed in the workplace. Complete with the groaning and eye
rolling, I got it. But that was not my first workplace rodeo, ladies and
gentlemen. I was not naive to the ways of the Kitchen Men.
It was early December. It was one of those cold, sunny Indiana
winter days where you could wear appropriate length shorts and get away with it
until the early evening when the sun went down. I walked through the back
entrance for employees with my friend Aimee, when I heard it. The voice of the
man I would very shortly call Work Dibs on. It wasn’t until I was passing the
food window that I saw him. Blonde. Eyes whose color rivaled the waves in
Hawaii. Ripped to Mars and back. Like, I’m not even exaggerating in the least; I
nearly stuck him in the large sink and started washing aprons on his abs. Oh,
and his voice. Did I mention yet that he hails from the deepest of back woods
in Alabama? He had left to go to college there in Indiana, so he didn’t
have a harsh twang anymore, rather a gentle, insanely adorable drawl. I don’t
know that my words will do it justice, but I’ll certainly try. To make the most
cliché comparison of anything southern it was like the deepest, darkest honey.
To top it off, he has a quick wit. There is nothing more attractive than a
smart southern man. He was like most
kitchen guys, flirting relentlessly with the servers and hostesses. But, obviously,
I had called Dibs so they were limited in their responses. Well, except
Meredith. I can’t use a single expletive adjective about that girl while
remaining a lady, so I won’t even give her more than this sentence. (Hint: “Oh
my gosh, I totally didn’t mean to grab your man junk, I was reaching for the
door handle!” On a swinging door? Alex, what is FALSE? ) Moving on…
I suppose you could say we dabbled. Then dated. I learned that
he was a popular, super smart, stud of an athlete who could not only pitch a
no-hitter but he was also an avid outdoorsman. He was independent from a very
early age. He loves to reminisce so, fortunately for me, I found out a
significant amount about him in the few short months we dated before our *HOLY
SH* SURPRISE moment.
I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t totally shocked and
terrified when I discovered I was pregnant with Ayden. Scary stuff, pregnancy.
I’m also not afraid to admit I was so incredibly immature then. The amazing thing
about children is that whether you’re ready for them or not, they *usually*
mature you about 5 years the second they come out. I was proposed to soon after, in THE most
unceremonious of ways. I can laugh about it now, but let me tell you that any
engagement story that involves leaving your pregnant, nearly blind girlfriend
wandering around, calling you and textually harassing you, designating you a
“douchebag” is not one that will be joyously recalled. Keep this in mind,
mothers of young lads. Raise them to know that this is not, in fact, the
most acceptable way to propose. Nothing less than a heartfelt, intimate, possibly
videoed and later montaged proposal will suffice. Although, to give credit where
much credit is due, it might not be the definition of “romantic” but he asked
me. He asked ME. I was a fiancé. I was going to get married! No feeling rivals
that of a newly engaged young lady. Not one.
We wed in the Smokey Mountains in a beautiful little white chapel
with only our closest friends and some family there. If you haven’t seen
Gatlinburg in November, stop reading this and GO. No! I’m kidding, finish
reading and then go. Truly, it’s gorgeous. Our chapel was nestled just atop a
middle mountain peak and we had a simply breathtaking view. I can recall
walking down the aisle wearing my silk, fire engine red peep toe pumps, praying desperately “Please, Lord, for the love of all things great and right and
good in this world, do not let me fall.”. I managed to make it to the altar
soundly; splendidly even, tripped only once up a single stair- totally hidden by my dress, WIN- and then had my father and stepfather simultaneously
give me away. I looked to my almost-husband for a bit of reassurance and there
he was, terrified and waiting. I don’t exactly remember saying the vows but I
do remember whispering “sausage, sausages, sausage!” at my soon-to-be life partner to
rustle up a laugh. It worked because, obviously, I’m the comedienne of that
man’s dreams *neck breakingly vicious hair flip*.
Without getting too in depth in the whole military aspect of
it all just yet, (I'm selfish, let me have a few posts all about me...) we have been married 5 years as of 9 months from now, moved 5
times, had 2 children in 3 years, and I can’t imagine spending my days waiting
for anyone else to walk through the door. I could say the typical “it’s been a
rollercoaster”, “we’ve had our ups and downs but we were meant for each other”
and “we have our moments but we love each other and we’re gonna make it!” but I
would rather gag on a rusty spoon than spew that overused garbage, even once.
So, I will say this. It has been hard. REALLY hard, but so immensely
satisfying. We continue to love and argue with and support each other and raise
our heathen precious boys to the very best of our abilities. Every day is
unique in its challenges. Every sun rise holds the promise of extremely long
work days, hyper children, and motherly/wifely/ soon to be scholarly duties to be completed. I love
it. I’m so glad I have it. I hope you
have it someday, too, if you don’t already. Nothing is as rewarding to one’s
soul as having your own family. That doesn’t have to include children, even. Just
being able to delight in sharing your entire being with someone who returns the
favor. It’s pretty awesome.
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