Friday, August 24, 2012

11 years

A few weeks ago Kevin and I celebrated our 11th anniversary.  When August 11 comes around every year, I think back to what I was doing back on Aug 11, 2001.  Getting my hair and makeup done, hanging out with my bridesmaids watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off in the hotel room, getting dressed at the church and peeking through the curtain to see Kevin and his family taking pictures.  Walking down the aisle to the song my dad composed for me, with my sweet Uncle Rich holding on to my arm, and smiling at my future husband.  Saying our vows, not really minding the words bc I thought, "we got this." What can I say, I was 21 and an idiot.  Our first kiss as a married couple, and I was filled with excitement and joy.  We had a wonderful ceremony, and the reception was a blast.

Our honeymoon in Riviera Maya was all that a honeymoon should be.  We couldn't get enough of each other, and we totally relaxed and enjoyed the amazing location.  And we ate.  Both of our shorts were tight on the plane ride home.

That's back when I wore shorts.  Now I stick to capris.

So we got home, and life got real, real quick.  No air conditioning in our tiny dated apartment (but it was in Haddonfield and so charming!  My inlaws did gift us a room air conditioner shortly after), and squirrels had chewed through the phone wires.  This is back when people still had "landlines."  Kevin was working, but I had yet to get a job for a few weeks.  One morning I took my big cell phone and stepped outside to our back steps to call my mom...I was missing her, and feeling a little like the honeymoon was over.  I did not realize that the door automatically locked.

I was wearing a piece from my honeymoon lingerie set.  Victoria's Secret sky blue little boxer shorts and a cami-type of top.  Not see through...but suddenly, trapped outside of my apartment, I felt stripped naked.

I freaked, needless to say.  My mom had a spare key, but was an hour and a half away.  My father in law had a key, but a.  I didn't want my husband's father to see me in my nightie and b.  there is no other reason, that's it.

So I called the super.  We had met him a few times - when we moved in, when we accidentally put a huge hole in the wall trying to hang something and bc of the squirrel issue.  He was very, very nice.  I explained that I needed to get back into my apartment and to please hurry.

He didn't hurry, or maybe he did all I remember is sitting on my back step as other tenants took out their trash or left for work and I tried to cover my whole self with my arms and look like I meant to be sitting there in practically nothing.

Anyway, I quickly learned that married life wasn't exactly as I pictured it.  Sometimes it was...but sometimes it was learning how to fight in an apartment where you couldn't get away unless you locked yourself in the bathroom and sat in the tub, and sometimes it was running out to my car yelling, "I'm going to my mom's!" with my new husband following in his car, flashing his lights and beeping the horn.  I pulled over only because I thought he'd get a ticket acting like a maniac, and we couldn't afford it.

We thought we'd go to Italy for our 5 year anniversary, before trying for a baby.  We'd both have Master's degrees by then, and I'd stay at home - which was large and had a dining room, not a dining nook - and experiment with recipes at night, because surely I'd have a lot of extra time then.  I'd make beautiful scrapbooks of our life together, I'd lose the baby weight and look even better than before ever being pregnant.

We had Bailey 2 months after our 2nd anniversary, both of us without Master's degrees.  We had moved to a condo, and it had a dining nook.  I patted myself on the back if I threw a chicken into the oven, nevermind looking at recipes.  Bailey's first 2 years of life pics are in a big box, I chose some to make a small scrapbook purely out of guilt that she would think that not scrapbooking meant not caring.  I traded my honeymoon set of nighties for gowns that were constructed during the pre-war era when homes evidently had no heat.

The years went on and not a lot went according to plan.  But one thing did, and I thank God often - we do still love each other.  We love our family, and our life together.

August 11 was a good day, and it still is.

1 comment:

  1. I keep forgetting when you were celebrating one of the biggest days of your life, I was becoming a mom for the first time. Aug 11th, 2001. A good day for celebrating.