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Pardonner et Oublier

Pumpkin PatchAre we seriously already into the second half of October already!?  It’s been flying by with gorgeous cool weather and lots going on after two weekends of ACL fest and flooding rain and pumpkin patches and little league games, and getting ready for a trip to LA in TEN DAYS where we’ll be visiting with family and taking D to Disney Land for the first time, we’re sooooo excited!!!!!!!  But with all of this going on, not only have I forgotten to note any memories here but also, completely. forgot. my. anniversary.  If it wasn’t for facebook, I’m not sure I would have ever remembered, but there I was on my lunch break, checking out my news feed and I was reminded of a few acquaintance’s birthdays and Tegi Hahn’s Wedding Anniversary, “eh who cares” I thought to myself, “wait, what!?”

My husband and I both had to work late that night, my shift being a double . . . so at the end of the night I called in an order to Stubbs (which has somehow escaped my BBQ repertoire my entire life) and swept by the babysitters (my amazing babysitter who also pulled a double watching my babe along with her 3) to get my precious sweet baby boy whom I adore.

Except, all of the sudden, this kid does not want to go to bed.  We got home around ten, snuggled and nursed, he fell asleep in my arms right as my husband got home, we went to lay him in his crib and Doiron, lost it.  Screaming “No000” and “Owwwww” and just plain screaming.  From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was against the “crying it out” method.  I want my son to feel comfortable and confident in his sleeping quarters and not feel abandoned, or worse, have there be something actually wrong and I’m just ignoring his cries for help.  When he’s sick and he cries I get him immediately and bring him to bed where he can nurse as often as he needs to soothe his ails.  But this always results in him thinking any time he wakes up now he can come cuddle with mommy, which I honestly kind of love, but it does making sleeping soundly a bit more difficult on all of us.  So Bryan, bless him, has to be the enforcer and literally put himself between me and our son.

So there we were on our third wedding anniversary, sitting on the living room floor, eating cold bbq to the sounds of our almost two year old screaming bloody murder.  Oh, but, I can’t forget to mention the fantastic gift my hubby crafted me, my very first coupon book!  Next day off we have, I’m cashing in the one where he takes care of D all day, and I’m finally painting my bedroom!When I was in elementary school, my favorite bedtime stories were those of my mother’s childhood or my own where in the moment our mothers were not laughing, but now our stomachs hurt and tears rolled down our faces from laughing so hard (ie: the time my mom cut her bedsheets to be sure they were straight across the top of her bed, or the time my sister locked me in the bathroom with the lights off and thought she had killed me as I slammed my two year old self against the door trying to get out) maybe this will be one of those stories.  I’m already chuckling at it now . . . but it certainly wasn’t romantic.  Not to mention that though we eventually won the battle of the beds that night, once we finally got in our own bed, up strolled our fat cat Diz who plopped himself in the spot Doiron would have been and stretched out victoriously.

So there it is y’all, my third wedding anniversary . . . no leather gifts, no fancy dinners, no celebratory vacations . . . and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I am so happily content with my life right now, I may moan about not being able to buy anything I want, or take more vacations, but when I close my eyes and breathe I remember that I’m doing exactly what I’ve wanted since the first day I met Bryan, living in a house full of love and hearty baby giggles, with a few screams on the side.

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