Ten years ago today, I married my handsome Andrew.
We've had ten years of loving.
Ten years of laughing.
Ten years of living.
We've grown comfortable.
We've grown patient.
We've grown close.
If I had my perfect anniversary celebration, I'd charter a private jet to whisk us away to our own private sandy, tropical paradise. It would be a beautiful private quiet island like Turtle Island.
We'd stay there laying on the beach while sipping exotic fruity drinks out of pineapples and coconuts. We'd be busy listening to waves hit the beach. We'd practice growing old together comfortably just being in each other's presence. We'd tan ourselves in the warm sunshine wearing as little as possible.
We'd stroll hand in hand barefoot on the darkened beach after enjoying a romantic picnic while watching the sun set over the ocean. I'd wear a beautiful, white flowy sundress to show off my golden tan and put a big pink tropical blossom in my hair. Andrew would have one of his loud and crazy Hawaiian shirts on that would make me smile.
That's my fantasy date, but...(record screeching)...halt...
I'm living real life...my real life.
A life full of love.
A life full of laughter.
A life full of children.
Children who require lots of attention.
A life with real schedules, real jobs and real responsibilities.
That's why I'll wait until this weekend when we're in Austin to celebrate.
Tonight I'll patiently wait for my man to come home from work. We'll rejoice with our four bundles of love, joy and laughter.
We'll put them to bed and sit on the couch. We'll cuddle up and watch something on TV like VH1's Top 40 Soft Rock Songs. We'll celebrate together the life we've been given.
I'll officially thank Andrew for his patience with me as I've learned what it truly means to be a wife, a helper and a lover to him.
...or maybe that jet is waiting!