12 years ago tonight a 20-year old redheaded gal and I, her elder by nearly 3 years, attended our company’s holiday party together at the Embassy Suites airport hotel in Philadelphia (glamorous, I know). She was involved with another, a rather pathetic fella who lived in her parent’s South Philly home. I was single, very happily so.
The events of that night are a bit fuzzy – thanks only to time – but I do still recall it as the strangest evening of my life up to that point or since. Black stockings and a dollhouse were involved. That’s all I’m sayin’.
I never thought I’d be married, let alone a father, but as much as there is a Mrs. Right for me, that redheaded gal is it. She’s gotta be a tad loopy, to have entered into a relationship with a moody, in-debt loner in the 1st place and now, a dozen years later, to be embarking on a Christmas break roadtrip to…wait for it…DETROIT, MICHIGAN! (glamorous, I know).
True love truly does travel on a gravel road, and the last year or so has been bumpier than others. I’m exhausted being a SAHD and primary homemaker. I have a hard time dealing with messes, disorganization and the like and as such, I’m either 1) grumpy that no one is seeing the scattered articles of clothing/toys and escorting them to their homes without being asked multiple times, or 2) tired from doing everything myself (now with a severely sore back). The crappiest part is that in my grumpy state I tend to not give enough credit to the Mrs. for what she does around here and what she has to deal with at work. She’s always the one up in the middle of the night when Mouse doesn’t make it to the potty. She’s the one kneeling bedside, tending to the Bear after a nightmare. She gives the baths at night, and generally, it’s her who can be heard reading bedtime stories to both girls. All this after fighting through red tape and incompetence in the workplace. The Mrs. deserves more than her fair share of praise for all that and more, even if the laundry in her basket is constantly waist-high.
There is no one else for me, never was and never will be. It’s been a wonderful 12 years since that bizarre night in Philly. Like I say a lot, I’m the luckiest guy in the world although I need to be reminded of that from time to time.
This date is, in some ways, more important than our wedding anniversary. That was planned, but there was nothing scripted about 12/10/98 and most certainly nothing orchestrated about all that followed. The butterfly-in-China randomness of our 1st date and our quickly falling in love somewhere between 12/11 and 12/20 is the most glorious thing that’s happened to me in my 34+ years (yes, even more so than 4 Red Wings Stanley Cup victories!)
Happy Anniversary darlin’ – I’m raising a glass of ice cold chocolate milk that they’ll be many more amazing moments!
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