Sunday, June 24, 2012


At two o'clock tomorrow afternoon, I will have been married to this face for exactly three years.


Andrew is the kind of person that every girl should aspire to marry. He is kind and good and funny and helpful and supportive and calm and religious and sweet and a good kisser and just a stand up man. Sure, he's quirky. He drums out rhythms with his fingertips all day long. He plays zombie games on the iPad. He is a camera snob. He once got caught sneaking his keyboard into his friend's house in order to join a heavy metal band his mom had forbid him to join. He is terrible at vacuuming and doing dishes. His closet is always exploding with unfolded clothes. He talks politics constantly. He missed my lips the first time he tried to kiss me. He puts his face up to the computer screen when I'm writing blog posts. He knows everything about celebrities because he reads every headline on the news. His first concert was a Turtles reunion concert. He still wore the same white Converse he wore all through high school when we got married. He has insomnia and often gets so wrapped up in talking or reading or thinking or watching that he'll stop rubbing my back halfway through a back rub. And he is really, really handsome.

Three years ago, we looked like this:


Today, we look like this:


And if someone had told me on our wedding day that, three years from that moment, we would have a toddler, a pregnant belly, a puppy, and glass bottles lined up all over our Arkansas kitchen cabinets, I probably would have laughed. Back then, I wanted to wait awhile to have kids because I wanted to publish an almost-finished novel and I wanted to try my hand at picture books and I wanted to be a photographer, too. Andrew thought he was going to be a psychologist and we spent most of that summer riding around on our little blue scooter, eating small meals, talking about our huge dreams, taking long naps in the afternoon, and wondering what the world had in store for us.

Truthfully, I hard a hard time adjusting to married life. I didn't like worrying about money or groceries or budgeting or waiting for Andrew to come home from work and sometimes I had fleeting moments of sheer panic because I had always been scared that, once I got married, my life would be over because my husband would tie me down. I had this obsession with "feeling free" that I talked about incessantly and was so, so happy when, a few months into our marriage, I realized that I had been right all along: Andrew made me feel more like myself- and more free- than I had ever felt on my own. I didn't believe in soul mates at the time- still don't know if I do- but I just knew he was mine.

And, truthfully, I still know that he is, even if I'm not quite sure what that means.
Happy anniversary (tomorrow!), hubbykins!