‘Til DEATH

Yesterday marked the anniversary of that one time that I walked down the aisle and solemnly promised with tears in my eyes to love and honour and cherish this guy forever.

Not too shabby, if I do say so myself!

It always strikes me as strange that anniversaries are lesser celebrations than the weddings. I mean any person can stand there and make promises in a gorgeous dress or immaculate suit, but actually DOING it, and living those words and not punching your spouse in the throat when he truly deserves it – that’s cause for celebration. Barring the logistics and the finances and the fact that no one would want to celebrate you every year, I think things should be reversed.

We made it another year! Pop the champagne! Open the gifts! Let’s go on a vacation!

Needless to say, that did not happen. What DID happen was that Adam and I got all gussied up and left Olive with her grandparents and went out for a fancy schmancy dinner. Except it was horrible.

We drove around for a while trying to decide on a restaurant, this one was too busy, this one was closed, we’d already been to that one so many times it was embarrassing. Finally we settled on one we hadn’t tried before, parked the car and walked in. Internets, we should have walked right out again. The place could easily sit 100 people and we were the only ones there. I mean, RUN, right? But we couldn’t, I couldn’t. I just felt bad! This whole restaurant and no one was eating in it. We sat down.

The menu was pretty basic and I tried to ignore the fact that our waiter was wearing a baseball cap, and appeared to also be the chef. We looked past the empty wine bottles on adjacent tables, and we made adult conversation as adults do.

We ordered, and in the time period between ordering and being served -due to the  restaurant being so very very empty- we could hear every detail of our food being prepared. And it sounded mostly like microwave doors opening and closing.

Halfway through our meal, as I poked at my listless salad with sad pink tomatoes, Adam met my eyes, leaned in and whispered, “This is terrible“.

I couldn’t stop laughing. It was. It was just so terrible.

We finished what we could, and smeared the rest around out plates so the chef wouldn’t be offended, and we left. We are not foodies, internet. I doesn’t take a lot to impress us, mostly just the fact that we don’t have to cook or clean up is enough. But I am not lying when I say that I could have cooked a better meal, and THAT is really saying something.

After the terrible meal I took the wheel and took Adam mini-golfing, which is what we did on one of our first dates way back when. It was adorable and he was generous and let me have at least three mulligans each hole – until it became apparent that I might win, and then all bets were off!  Encouragement turned to nervous laughter and then after my zebra striped golf ball plunked into a sweet little hole in one situation he growled “No more mulligans!”

(I won, just in case you’d like to know.  Adam will tell you otherwise, if you ask, but everyone knows you can’t retroactively count mulligans that were awarded voluntarily. It was fitting, I thought. Because he let me win I won on our first date too)

Eleven years together, four years married. The past twelve months have brought an incredible amount of change into our lives and we are still here, still standing. We have our fat little baby and our giant dog and hearts full of love, even when we’re at each other’s throats.

Even when Adam tells me he got me a great gift and then farts in the car and locks the doors so I can’t get out. (That’s reality, right there.)

He has kept me laughing for more than a decade, and that’s no small feat.

Pop the champagne! Happy Anniversary to us,