Two years ago today, in a small ceremony in the Cleaver compound living room, The Mister and I were married.
Yes, we two old farts crazy kids tied the knot just two years ago.
The Mister thought we were married three years ago; at another time, he also said it seemed like it's been five years.
I'm still deciding if I should feel happy or insulted by those remarks.
I asked him if he wanted to renegotiate our contract, but he said that there's no negotiation necessary on a contract with no end date. I guess that means that he's in this for the long haul. Life without parole, if you will.
I <3 him.
It's been an interesting two years, fraught with unemployment, and an arrest (The Boy's), as well as lots of joyous occasions. Two daughters married last year (one mine, one his).
We now share six children and six grandchildren. We're blessed.
I know I still have lots to learn about the inner workings of The Mister's mind (he's a complicated individual). He's so much more than that grumpy guy holed up in the man cave.
He does most of the grocery shopping. He buys me Coke Zero and chocolate. He gives some serious hugs.
He tolerates my inattention to detail in all things domestic. He knows how to operate a vacuum. He hangs up his own laundry.
He said he would treat me like a queen, though, in hindsight, I'd prefer the role of princess, since it comes with no adult responsibilities.
I knew he was the one when he laughed heartily at my favorite joke. A very long joke, that I typed, line by line. He paid attention to the end...and laughed. I knew then that he could handle (and listen to) my nonstop chatter without considering gunplay.
He has figured out how to deal with The Boy, to varying degrees of success. Let's face it, most men would have run away screaming just thinking about taking on both The Boy and me.
He does have this annoying habit of saying that I tell lies about him in the blog - I prefer to think that he suffers from selective memories and an overriding inability to recognize nuance - although I do admit that I occasionally "embellish" a bit. That's what we writers do. If he wants to tell it HIS way, he can get his own blog, ya know?
Oh, and he's constantly telling me that I am not in charge.
Pshaw, we wives know who captains the marital dinghy - teehee.
He's very opinionated, and confident that he has THE answer in most situations. Sometimes I tell him he's delusional. Other times, I just say that he's such a goober (and he calls me a Raisinette).
He strategizes and plans, I fret and wing it. We work well togetherneed each other manage to muddle through.
Except in the van. His driving aggravates me. I have learned to stifle my screams due to his tendency to tailgate. And he has yet to strangle me when I warn him that there's a car close by (and when I say "close by", I mean within 75 yards). In these two years, I haven't seen much of the St. Louis area, since my eyes are usually closed to keep me from fright-induced cardiac failure.
Thank God for the GPS.
The one epic fail occurred when I agreed to say "obey" in our vows.
That is one concept I have a lot of difficulty embracing.
Being disobedient is just so much more fun for me. Can any of you see me as being obedient? It is to laugh...
We've already had an anniversary luncheon at Red Lobster (I recommend the grilled shrimp); today I'll be baking a Caramel Apple Pie while The Mister watches grandson Nate play soccer.
And we have plans to fire up the breadmaker after dinner to make some copycat Cinnabons (hmm, vanilla pudding in the recipe). He can take some cinnamon rolls with him when he goes out of town for work on Monday.
Not exactly the typical lovey-dovey anniversary celebration - but The Mister and I simply don't DO typical. Here's to many, many more years where we wonder how we survived without each other!