guess who forgot what day it is?

Today is our 17th anniversary.

We still happily hold hands in the supermarket and while watching movies and we snuggle on the sofa. Our kids often walk into the kitchen to see us kissing and turn away disgusted by their parents inability to keep their hands off each other’s asses. What can I say, SuperHubby has a SuperFINE ass!

I’d pick him out of the lineup of guys to marry if I had the chance to do it again. And I thank the gods that I don’t. Because well, then, I’d have to wade through all the morons I dated, again, just to get to the one I was meant to find all along.

It helps that fate plunked him squarely in my kitchen so I couldn’t help but find him. Because otherwise I might have made the wrong choice and then the entire universe would have imploded. And we can’t have that now, can we?

I so totally don’t deserve him and the fates only know how he doesn’t just sigh and roll his eyes at me most of the time, oh wait, he does do that, but really this morning is a perfect example of what he deals with regularly and why being married to me takes some serious patience and tolerance.

SuperHubby is out the door at the unholy hour of 3:30 am while I snore and drool on the pillow until closer to 6:30, unless the dog whines and sticks her tongue in my face so she can go out and turn my lawn browner than it already is, so we don't get the chance to get in each others way while waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Which might explain why we still hold hands in the supermarket.

I trundled out the door this morning, barely awake and answered SuperHubby’s call while on the way to work. I mumbled something about hoping his day is great, asked how he was feeling and told him I loved him as the wind blew through the window, causing static on the phone and then hung up to finish drinking my tea. While I was walking to my office, I noticed I had a text from my guy, and when I opened it, this is what I saw:

Happy Anniversary! Morning! I Love You!

Stopping in the middle of the damn building, I hung my head and smacked myself in the forehead, literally. DUH! I HAD FORGOTTEN to wish him a Happy Anniversary when we spoke that morning. Because I had forgotten for a few hours That it was our anniversary. AGAIN. I am such a tool.

I immediately called him and told him how much I loved him and that I was sorry, that I had only forgotten that morning, because Hey! several blog posts show that I didn’t forget entirely, just lost track of the day for a little while.

All this being said, I married the best guy, the guy with the gruff exterior and mushy heart, which makes me pretty damn lucky, the guy that remembers and celebrates the day we officially got engaged, the guy that is an exceptional father, the one guy that tolerates and even appreciates (I hope) my weird aberrations and totally gets me and mostly doesn’t mind that I painted our bedroom the color of papaya’s and used too much joint compound.

Happy Anniversary to that guy, MY Guy, I love you.