You know me. I was one of those girls who started a Wedding Ideas book in high school, stockpiling Martha Stewart Weddings back issues and carefully hiding them until the right guy would come along and give me a reason to start checking availability at my favorite venues around town. Turns out that the right - very tall, very blonde (who knew?) - guy was on the patio at Boar's Head Bar.
Nearly three years into dating and longing for our college days after moving to Atlanta to become grown ups, Wes and I would often spend time talking about all of the places we missed in Athens. When the opportunity to drive out there for our future brother-in-law's birthday came up (he must have been nervous; that was the best lie he could think of), we arrived early. Our plan was to eat lunch downtown and then take a walk around North campus before heading to his sister's home.
So that's how I found myself standing in front of the fountain on Herty Field, where I made a joyful decision that was far wiser than my 22 year-old self should have been. Outside of watching my fair share of romantic comedies, I had very little real-world experience regarding marriage. Maybe all of those times that my parents said "you'll just know" finally made sense. Maybe the example they set day after day of their (now) nearly 43-year marriage sunk in without my noticing. But however I got there, I am ever grateful I said "yes!" to the blue-eyed boy who looked great in jeans and who has grown into the husband and father I love every day. And who, yes, still looks great in jeans. Lucky me, indeed.
Thirteen months later, on March 29, 2003, the big day arrived. Years of thumbing through those glossy magazines and hours upon hours spent surfing theKnot.com (does that site still exist??) when I should have been working, paid off in incredible ways. Weeks later I heard that there was a thunderstorm during our reception -- apparently we were too busy on the dance floor to notice.
In the 10 years that have passed, memories have run together in a crazy blur. We survived three *super fun* pregnancies and were blessed to bring home beautiful children that fill our days with sticky fingers, battles of wills, laughter, laundry and cuddles.
Our first home in Cabbagetown was a Pre-Wedding Relationship Test of major DIY renovations, not to be outdone by the home we built from scratch in Decatur and our most recent (overly) ambitious renovation in Texas. We've built a business together and learned how to walk the incredibly thin line between "happily married couple" and "business partners." Most importantly, our photo albums are filled with memories from princess birthday parties and college game days to family beach trips and mom-and-dad-only vacations in beautiful places like Asheville and Amalfi.
We see the sunrise through our bedroom curtains each morning and we know right where our kids are tucked into bed each night. I'm not sure it can get better than this, but something tells me it will.
For better or worse, in sickness and in health, no matter where we are on this awesome journey, I'm happiest when I'm with you.
Now. Pardon me for taking everyone back to that day when we said "I do."
Pardon me even more for sharing some potentially cringe-inducing photos of ourselves, our family and our friends.
We do love you all.
I'm pretty sure when we finally passed out that night, we didn't look quite so delicate. There was probably lots of snoring and drooling from the exhaustion. A perfect start to a decade of wedded happiness, if you ask me. You've got to start with the bar as low as possible, right? To this day, Wes is pretty stoked when he gets through a night without me elbowing him or waking him sawing logs.
He's one fortunate guy, but not as fortunate as me.