Take that ABC! I Don’t Want Your Stinking Rose!!

Someone told me that it was exactly one year ago today when pigs began to fly and a little bit of hell iced over.  It’s sort of funny, because when I think about a year ago today, all I think about is marrying the bestest man in the world.  Crazy that these two amazing things occurred on the same day!

Due to my past phobia of commitment and my wandering ways this was something that I had understandably avoided for quite some time. My particular aversion to suburbia, little people, and the inevitable start of me referring to myself as a ‘we’ didn’t help matters.  Not to mention, I knew as soon as I tied the knot, it would disqualify me from being the next Bachelorette.  That is if I wasn’t already disqualified in regards to the fact that I have an IQ greater than 23.93 and a job.

Lest you think the only things I’m sacrificing are hot tubs and roses, I should tell you that just this week I cleaned the bathroom and picked up all my junk in preparation for Justin’s arrival today.  It’s not as impressive as a heart tattoo on my wrist, but I work with what I’ve got.  When his plane arrives later today for what will be his 3,509,342th trip to see me in Michigan, I should mention the things that I’ve done in the name of love.  Somehow, I get the feeling he will not be all that impressed- and then (try to) forbid me to watch The Bachelorette ever again.

See this mess?? Yeah- I cleaned that. For Love.

For richer or for poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. We said the whole kit and caboodle- with the exception of that pesky ‘obey’ bit (that somehow mysteriously didn’t make the cut). So far, we’ve been privileged to endure the whole ‘poorer’ and ‘worse’ part of things.  I’m curious to find out when one of us are going to be stricken with malaria or the Ebola Virus- that would add a certain kind of charm to our second year of marriage.

As to the ‘till death do us part’ bit, I’ve instructed him that he is not allowed to die on me anywhere between the ages of 32 and 77. If he must, he’s got to do it before we have kids and while I’m still good looking enough to put up a hot add on match.com.  Up till now, he’s kept his end of the bargain. But we’ll see how that pans out due to his profession and his dislike of wearing helmets while hanging off the edge of cliffs.

Spending our first (and upcoming second) year of marriage apart sucks.  Doing it while attending one of the most stressful graduate programs in the history of the universe, turns it to a 696.3 on a 1 to 10 scale of Suck Factor.  The man flies planes for a living and then when he finishes work, he gets on a plane for a 3 hour ride to see me every other week- to come see me at my parents house, might I add.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, Anesthesia school induces more than a little anxiety, and I am living in a perpetual “emotionally fragile” state.  So you can only imagine what the poor man gets to deal with.

I get moody and I yell. I get sad and I cry.  I put clothes in the middle of the bed so he can’t accidentally touch me and disturb my sleep when I have to get up at 430am the next morning.  I get annoyed when he wants to have sex too late at night.  I get offended when he doesn’t want to have sex.  I call him everyday for a week asking his opinion about baby names and then the next week I get physically ill at the thought of children.  I get irritated when he doesn’t want to come to Michigan and then I get frustrated when he does and I have to drive an hour to the airport to pick him up.  Every day he’s here, he endures me acting like I just ate a bowl of crazy for breakfast, praying that I turn back into the girl that he once knew.  Him and me both.

And yet, he keeps coming back month after month and continues to give me secret kisses when I’m sleeping despite the possibility I might wake up and be pissed.  It’d be a safe bet to say that he wins the VIP award for the first year of marriage.  Jack Bauer, If you’re reading this- I’m sorry to say, you don’t got nothing on my husband.

The man is a saint. I think I might call the pope to suggest a new saint be added to the “List O’ Saints”, or whatever it is they call it.  At the very least, maybe get a statue carved in his likeness to set on the mantel.  Or put in bed with me so I have something to cuddle with and don’t get too used to hogging the whole bed.  Although, I’m betting Justin would be excluded from sainthood, on the grounds of having a crazy wife who thinks cuddling with saintly statues is an okay idea.  That, and my IUD.

All of this to say, Happy 1st Anniversary to the bestest, smartest, funniest, most patient, bad ass, hottest husband there is.  Only 14 months till I’m done with school and we’re living in the same state.  Then all we’ll to deal with are silly little issues like messy bathrooms, who gets all the covers, dog fur, how many shoes I have, and who’s making dinner.

It’ll be a breeze!

Tagged as: Justin, Marriage, Suz