Five Years

November 16, 2001


Today is my fifth anniversary. Five years is not a very long time. It is also a very long time. On average, Luke and I's marriage has lasted a lot longer than most people who get married after only nine months of dating. Especially if you factor in our exceptional youth at the time we decided to tie the knot. Good for us. We make it work.

Take a moment, if you will, to look at these strangers. This morning I sent Luke a card. I said he was sexier than the day I married him. being a good husband, a good father and a good man really suits him. Better than a head full of hair. And I'll give myself credit. Those same attributes (substitute wife, mother, woman) really seem to suit me. I may not have that wedding day glow, but I am a whole lot happier than I was then, and it makes all the difference in the world.

Thanks, babe, for five great years. Thanks for making me always feel appreciated, feel beautiful and most importantly loved. Thanks for always taking the time to communicate with me instead of running from our problems. Thanks for sometimes sacrificing your wife to let her be your children's mother. Thanks kids for always letting mommy be a wife. Thanks, Luke, for knowing when to truly be a man and shoulder responsibility for your family, even when it meant personal sacrifice. Thanks for never being afraid to tell me to take that same responsibility. Thank you for being the defining factor that makes me the woman I am today. I love you!!! Happy anniversary.

Never Turn Your Back

This morning I went to the bathroom. I was gone two minutes, tops. I had the children nicely seated at the table eating their breakfast. And when I returned...

All of the canned goods had been removed from the lazy susan cabinet.

A bag of apples had been removed from the fridge and each one had a bite mark in it.

A cup of soy milk lay overturned on the table creating a lovely, sticky, white waterfall flowing off the edge of the table into the floor.

Philip had at least four grapes smashed on his head.

Helen was eating some sliced turkey.

The dishwasher was open.

There were three pans and two large spoons in the floor.

So, here is my theory. I do not believe that the two of them could have accomplished this is such a short time. I believe they have an army of baby fiends lurking in corners, in cabinets and under furniture. Whenever I leave the room, all the babies emerge to wreck havoc upon the house. When they hear me coming, they flee. Certainly, these are magical babies. But I cannot imagine how my own two children could inflict this much damage in the amount of time it takes me use the restroom.