Versaries

Two things can be predicted pretty darn consistently. The day that I plan as my product shoot day will be ridiculously cloudy even for South Bend standards, and any week that is bound to be a hefty work week will be the same week the kids come down with an illness. Poor guys.  I really need to take advantage of this predictability by doubling up on the salad for them preemptively since they do actually enjoy salad. (I'll tell you my secret ways). 

Yesterday morning I was wavering between putting my best foot forward and half-way napping through an intense headache cuddled on the couch with Ryan while Elise raided the bottom half of the Christmas tree. The ten minutes of half-sleep were well worth the indecently naked tree. Laundry was started, we baked oatmeal cookies, we had a tea party (otherwise known as cookies and milk elsewhere), I only mildly used my scary voice a few times, Elise attempted to sabotage the family business by crushing the one lone glass ornament that was supposed to be thrown away in my scanner (!!! thankful she didn't get cut), the apartment was then thoroughly vacuumed while the boys played/trashed the guest room, and by the time noon rolled around my patience threshold was gone with the wind. It wasn't even a particularly rough morning, but some days are just days, italics needed. Chris had mentioned he was going to be home for lunch by noon (such a luxury! we are very grateful to live close to school) so I was watching the door as if it were a oven with cookies in it. Well, an oven with a window unlike ours, ha. 12:01, 12:02 ... 12:07 ... 12:32 ... the angry things I was going to spurt out upon his arrival were multiplying by the minute! Don't mess with a mom's reprieve! The reproachful look I would toss his way was selected out of my mean look arsenal. 

Finally I heard the door to the apartment building open, then a few seconds later our door opened. I turned around from the sink flashing my chosen look as I saw his head first pop in ... followed by a single rose. 

Oops! My mediocre blue steel changed to a sheepish blush. 

We got engaged seven years ago today. What a day, italics evoking a different emotion than above. I insisted we make an anniversary trip to the Grotto citing that we might not be here next year, and my heart is heavy imagining that we won't be able to just swing by the locale of our engagement like it ain't nothing at all.

So happy engage-aversary, Christopher Blake! This is my gift to you, a blog post, since I have been ignoring your encouragements for months. I hope there are only a few tpyos.