Ten years ago today, I married my best friend. The love of my life. My soul mate. The Romeo to my Juliet. The Kip to my LaFawnduh. The Sid to my Nancy. The Bobby to my Whitney. Okay, maybe those last two weren't such great examples.
We got married on a beautiful, if hot, day. For some reason people still like to complain about how hot it was that day, 10 years later, as if it was my idea to begin with.
The 10 years since have truly flown past. There have been ups and downs, of course, but for the most part it has been wonderful. We both have our flaws, but somehow as the years go by those seem to matter less and less. Why sweat the small stuff when we could just relax, be happy, and enjoy one another? I think the strongest part of our marriage is that we're more than just husband and wife, we're friends. I can honestly say that there is no one in this world I'd rather spend time with. It doesn't get much better than that.
Yesterday my husband asked if we were buying presents for one another. I said no, going out for dinner would be enough for me. He said he felt as though 10 years was a big anniversary, a time when other men would buy extravagant gifts for their wives. I shrugged it off, and told him that at this point in my life, I'm pretty much over that. I don't need lavish gifts to prove to me that he loves me, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't either. He bought me a bookshelf for Mother's Day, which is enough of a gift to last me for years. Besides, we'll be getting another pretty big gift in about two months. So that's what I told him. "We're getting a baby. That's enough of a gift for me."
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