Five Years Later

I should be saving this blog entry for next Monday, but I am feeling inspired today for some reason.  Our youngest is making the transition from his crib to a big boy bed and is waking up in the night again; only now, he's no longer "confined" in his crib and has taken to walking around in the middle of the night.  Last night it was my hubby's turn to get up for any "incidents," and there was one that lasted around two hours. Now, I am usually--and by usually, I mean 99.99999% of the time--a serious #@$%^ if you wake me up at 2:30 in the morning.  But last night was different.  I remember the initial haze of hearing the baby waking up and then being cognizant enough to cheer silently to myself that it wasn't my night.  Then I remember feeling the emptiness of my bed and missing my husband.  When he came to bed later, I remember holding him and breathing in the scent of his skin.  And I realized that I've had him for almost five years now in my life.  And what an amazing five years it's been--a whirlwind of every kind of emotional, physical, economical, and mental situation you can imagine.

This coming Monday will be five years since my life got turned upside down.  Most of my friends know this story, but I'll tell it again for those who don't (care) lol.  A friend of mine at the time was asked to go on a date with a guy she didn't like at all, but she felt like she should since he was so "nice."  She was dreading the night, and I told her that I'd drive in after work in Metairie and meet them at Y Bar so she'd have an "out" if she needed it.  All she needed to do was tell me the word, and I was going to fake an emotional crisis and make her leave with me.    When I got to Y Bar, she and the guy were doing fine; so I sat down at the bar and talked to Ricki.  I noticed a guy sitting at the bar, thought he was cute, and just "happened" to sit down next to  him.  He started talking on his cell to his brother (screaming would describe it better, and he still does it).  After the conversation was over (I was by then on my second Crown and Coke), he leaned over and said, "I'm sorry.  I don't mean to be 'that' guy in the bar who's always on his cell phone."

We might have talked for minutes or hours; I couldn't tell you which.  I knew he was perfect on paper and that I really liked him.  I also knew I was starting to catch a good buzz and was in danger of embarrassing myself.  He had to run to the bathroom; so I made a move that was either going to be genius or poison:  I wrote my name and phone number on a bar napkin and a "Better call me, Cutie" on it for good measure.  I gave the napkin to the bartender with strict instructions to make sure "the Cutie" got it and hightailed it out of there as fast as I could.  I didn't know at the time what the outcome was going to be, but I just had a feeling.

 My phone rang about 30 seconds later.  I wasn't even to my car yet.  Having just read "The Rules"--like every good Southern girl looking for the right man does--I didn't answer his call.  I let him go to voicemail and then listened to the message a minimum of 10 times, analyzing everything he said and how he said it.  I would give anything to get that message back.  Anything.

The next morning, I texted him before I left for school and apologized for "missing" his call.  He fell for it.  And I fell for it when he told me that I'd saved his job by waking him with my text, as he'd stayed out late and overslept.  That led to our first date two days later.  We met at a sushi restaurant and couldn't stop talking long enough to order.  We ordered about 10 rolls and ate one of them.  The first date was amazing.  I introduced him to my parents on our second date (the following night).  That's all she wrote.  When we left the restaurant and went to the Hollywood Club in the middle of a cane field, and he just took it in stride, I knew he was cool.  But when we talked until we fell asleep (fully dressed and above the covers I'd like to add) and woke up holding hands, I knew that was it.

Now most, if not all, of those reading this are probably yawning or feeling like they were dropped in the middle of some kind of chick flick; but the speed at which our relationship started is only the beginning.

In almost five years to the day since we met, we've:
fallen in love
got married five months later
had a baby
moved to D.C.
learned Spanish
moved to Ecuador
both got new jobs
had another baby
moved to Canada
both got new jobs
I took the test
I passed the test
We're about to bid on the next post

So, sorry to go on and one but:  five years, two kids, three moves (not including me moving in with him), two jobs, three countries, and a possible career for me later, I still miss when my husband is not in the bed with me.  And I still get weak at the smell of his skin.  And I still light up when I see his face or hear his voice.  And I still cry just a little bit whenever we're going to be apart for more than like 12 hours.  And it all started with him telling me, "I'm sorry..."   My goodness, life flies by so fast when you've found the right one.  My hubby says I only get 50 years of monogamy, and then he's going to trade me in for a younger model lol; so 45 more years just doesn't seem like enough.