Five years ago, on a Sunday, I called my Grami to tell her I’d met the man I was going to marry. I think I may have still been drunk. Okay, I was almost definitely still drunk. It was early in the morning on a warm Orlando Sunday – and I had just sped away from looking into that particular man’s eyes. I had no idea I was writing the first lines of my new life.
When I met K. it was sudden and stupid and all around irresponsible. I got drunk and grabbed a groomsman and it happened to be him. I was only a teensy bit out of control at the time and I had no idea – zero understanding – that my actions could impact the rest of my life. No matter how hard I tried to shake the idea that this Republican from Florida was *not* the man of my dreams, he invaded every inch of my life. K. was – is – and forever will be my mate. My other half. My partner.
We celebrated four years of marriage on Thursday. And five years of meeting at a Rehearsal Dinner. And the general concept that no matter what we do to dislodge the other, we’re hanging in for dear life. I have a small problem with catastrophic thinking (won’t that be fun to deal with when I have kids!) that I’m using this experience of living in two different places to modify.
I started this whole blog to discuss the actions of preparing for a baby. And, the pharmaceutical updates not withstanding, I’m hoping that I’m still doing that. Because, Baby K, your parents are trying really really hard to make a life for you that is complete with loving people who know how to cope with life. We’re not always going to be that good at it, but you should know that we will never stop trying. If the past is any indicator of the future, you are going to have two very well-adjusted, competent, not-afraid-to-screw-up, hard-working parents. You, my little life yet to be, are one very lucky babe.