I officially have my first Ipod. I came home this afternoon from picking Andrew up from camp and there was a box on my front porch. I brought it in the house, opened it up and inside was a tiny box, gift wrapped with a note attached. Chris, across the ocean, hundreds of miles away, reached out to me and gave me the warmest, most beautiful hug I have ever had.

It wasn’t my birthday, it isn’t Christmas, completely out of the blue. Anyone who knows anything at all about me knows that I am not a sappy girl. I laugh in the face of sap and ooey gooey, lovey dovey, kissy-poo stuff. He and I are incredibly emotional and intimate….privately. No real PDA, love letters, etc.

We even made a pact NOT to buys gifts for birthdays (not the kid’s) or Valentine’s day or our anniversary because the pressure of buying a gift just screws with the meaning of the event for us. So, at least for right now, I am putting away the tough act and screaming at the top of my lungs that I am absolutely, without question, blindly and completely in love with my husband.

I was in the love with him the first day I met him (it is true, won’t tell the story, but take my word for it). For some reason, marrying at 17 never concerned me. I never stopped to think. I was never scared or nervous. It just seemed right. We’ve had our bumps and bruises along the way, like everyone else. After 14 years with him, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that he is my hero. He is my best friend.

He is my boyfriend, my crush, my knight in shining armour. Several years ago, it occurred to me that many married couples go for years, perhaps a lifetime, without knowing what it feels like to be completely, desperately, passionately in love, cherished, put on a pedestal, treated like a princess. That is very sad.

By the same token, in most marriages, even if there was passion to begin with, it certainly fizzles a bit after a while, especially as long as 14 years. You can read article after article, hear advice till your ears bleed that this is “normal.” Well, I am here to testify that this should not be normal. It doesn’t have to be. I don’t know how we’ve done it; I have no advice to give.

I can say that if your wedding day was the happiest day of your life, then you’re doing something wrong. It amazes me how much time and effort many people (mostly women) put into planning their fantasy wedding, one day, but can’t put the same time and effort into the actual marriage.

I’ll go out on a limb here, possibly offend some people, and say outright that the wedding really doesn’t matter. You’re just as married spending 20k on 15 minutes of blah/blah wedding vows versus $20 at the justice of the peace. Substance, not style, makes a marriage last and not only last, but soar.

Thank you, Chris, for saving me, loving me, cleaning up after the disaster that is me, telling me I am beautiful when I treat you like shit, being my friend, my lover, my baby daddy, my sugar daddy, my boyfriend, my counselor, my soldier, my date at the movies, my partner in crime, the keeper of my soul and the thief of my heart.

So, now that I’ve completely embarrassed myself by stepping outside my comfort zone and professing my undying love for a man most men could only dream of being, I’ll change the subject……

Picked up my baby boy from summer camp today. Missed him muchly and vice versa. After I parked and walked into the mass of kids waiting for their parents, I noticed that my child, my boy, my baby was being pawed by girls with boobs. This camp was supposed to be for 8-12 year olds!! Since when did 12-year-old girls sprout boobs and wear make-up?? The raging mother bear welled up inside me but I held tight. It was just innocent flirting and it all seemed to completely go over Andrew’s head, thankfully, lol. Yes, he’s a handsome boy. Yes, he has “cool guy” long, blonde hair. Yes, he has his daddy’s eyes and a “who me?” smile. Yes, he is homeschooled, which tends to lend an air of mystery and uniqueness to his personality. Yes, he has a certain naivete and his “cute factor” is off the charts. I get it…..he’s a catch. But keep your damn prepubescent female, pheromone-soaked hands off my baby! I KNOW how some girls can be……I was one of them! Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous little girls are……and hide it very well…….

Lastly but not leastly, the first apple fell off my apple tree today and I’m eating it. It tastes like an apple. That is a good thing. I’ve never grown anything edible in my whole entire life. Smokable maybe, but not edible…..

Oh, and never drop a really fuckin’ heavy, lead or some sort of heavy-ass-metal Japanese lantern on your bare foot from the top of a four-foot bookshelf. THAT is a really, really, really BAD idea……

So, that’s the extent of my really, really, really good day. I’m gonna put it in my piggy bank so I have some spare sunshine on a really, really, really bad day.