Nobody Better, Vol. 3

Happy Anniversary to us!  Fifteen years ago May 10, two crazy kids (OK, two crazy early/mid-30 somethings) vowed to love, honor, and laugh like idiots for ever and ever in front of one hundred of our favorite people.

We obeyed none of the traditional wedding must-do stuff, and charted our own unique course down the aisle.  Unexpectedly and spontaneously, my husband kissed me when my dad deposited me at the front of the room, the officiant “yelling” at Tom about not following the rules.  Everyone laughed, and my mother-in-law cried.  It was genuine.  And perfect.

Our wedding occurred pre-The Knot, pre-online registries, pre-social media, pre-anything electronic pretty much, yet somehow we managed to pull off a springtime tulip-filled wedding that fit few rules, but fit us perfectly.

Though we weren’t a young bridal couple, in our photos, compared to now, we look so young.  I loved my dress, simple as it was, and if it were appropriate in even the very teensiest way, I’d wear that baby to little league or while grocery shopping.  I’d wear it weekly until I tired of it, which is possibly never.

We went quickly from two to three to four, and three and four keep us steadily occupied these days.  We find ourselves in the midst of the wonder years–you wonder just where in fresh hell the time goes.  That’s my interpretation of “wonder years” anyway.  Fifteen years.  *poof*

This year’s “I sing a song  for us”on our anniversary (well I would if I could sing well enough to sing publicly) comes from–quelle surprise!–Barenaked Ladies’ Nobody Better–

Tell me does it show?

Wherever I go you’ll be on my mind.

Nobody better, forever and ever, I’ll weather this with you.

Nobody better, Tom.  Happy Anniversary!

Take Us Home 

There’s a lyric that goes, “Worked out that I’ve probably made a mistake for everything I’ve done right.”  That would be me, though honestly? probably the scales lean even more toward the mistake side than the side of right.

Fourteen years ago today I did something really right though.  Before we were four, or even three, we were two.

We got serious quickly, Tom and me.  I can remember as if it were last week, standing in the hallway at his old house saying to him that I hoped we would be lucky enough to have kids, specifically to have boys, because the world needed more solid, decent men like him in it. That I couldn’t wait to make us a party of three.  I was wearing my denim bib shortalls, a red tee underneath, and my pink “Life is Good” baseball cap (it was sixteen years ago, you can check your fashion files–it’s all good, yo).

I didn’t have to wait long for that at all.  Sometimes dreams do come true.

At alternate turns, reality surpasses anything you could dream in your wildest imaginings.  You never dream what fourteen years down the road looks like.  You don’t dream that your kitchen window would remain uncased nearly a year after the kitchen remodel was “done.”  You don’t dream of cleaning up the vomit your dopey rescue dog launched after he destroyed the carpeting back onto that same now un-carpeted spot.  You don’t dream of seeing your spouse randomly in passing most nights between the shuffle of piano lessons, school activities, doctor appointments and baseball practices (and with your vision failing at every turn, you barely actually see anything anymore!).  You surely don’t dream that your son gets tagged with a progressive, neurological disease, and you never dream that you become a reluctant advocate and fundraiser for MD, but you manage to help raise over $5,000.

But now?  I couldn’t dream of any other life but this one (minus the dog vomit part, obviously, and the MD which still, yeah).

You do dream that your children become productive stewards unto the world, and you help them get there through volunteerism, service, and kindness. Check. You do dream that you can send your kid on his big class trip, and that he returns a changed young man.  Check.  You do dream that your kid who loves sports of all sorts blasts another homer over the fence, and that he is humble about that feat when his cleats return to stomp on home plate.  Check.  You dream that you have enough to give your children more than you believed you had at that same age.  You float fuzzy visions that you’re happy, whatever happy means to you at the time.  And you are.

You find just the right lyrics to capture how you feel on your fourteenth wedding anniversary:

We’re forever, you and me.  The sun will show us where to go.  Love will give us heart and soul, and take us home.

Home. Happy Anniversary to us.