busman's honeymoon

Today is our second wedding anniversary. We marked the occasion by attempting to fix the broken toilet seat; getting new inspection stickers for the cars; replacing the quirky cable box; doing laundry; trying to sort out our infertility coverage with the health insurance people; waiting for FedEx to show up with my ov.id.rel injection; taking Lilly to the mall to buy a Halloween costume and birthday gifts for friends; playing in a kids vs. parents end-of-season soccer scrimmage; scheduling playdates; helping with homework; and finally, unable to face the prospect of real meal prep, making breakfast-for-dinner.

You know what? It's all good. Two years ago today, this is what I signed up for. A home, a family, a busy life - with him.

Before I met Brian, I avoided this stuff like the plague. I just couldn't imagine myself pulling it off. I couldn't imagine feeling loved and supported enough by any man to make it worth it. Then one cold January day I met this stranger at Starbucks for coffee, and I thought, "Oh. That's the kind of guy."

Then he turned out to be the guy. The guy who has my back every single day. The guy who is 100% dedicated to loving and providing for his family. The guy who wants me to be happy, and who is effortlessly made happy by me. I feel damn lucky. Despite extraordinary hell we have been through, I still feel lucky.

Of course I'd rather be spending this day wrapped up in the sheets with him on some romantic, tropical island. But I'm okay with today, because it's real, and that's what I wanted all along.

Plus he didn't forget: there are flowers and cards and chocolates on the dining room table. So if you'll excuse me, after this very long day, I'm going to grab my bon-bons and collapse on the couch.