Traditional 5th Wedding Anniversary Gift? A Nap.

This guy.

Peej’s headshot back from when we were dating. I swoooooned. Lots.

Six years ago, he asked me to marry him. He actually shouted the question at me in exhaustion after multiple misunderstandings (mine) and attempts at subterfuge and romanticism, dammit. (His.) There was also his Grandma Dobbie’s world-famous, forevermore-to-be-dubbed Engagement Pasta.

Kids, this is what a phone picture looked like in 2007.

Five years ago, I said yes. (He did, too.) Also, there was a brief moment of fear that our geriatric organist had kicked the bucket. But no- oh no- he had just been napping. Did I mention that P.J. cheerfully agreed to let me walk down the aisle to Boston’s More Than A Feeling? In a Catholic church? (Tom Scholz would’ve been proud of how those pipes soared.)

We’re blurry because our love cannot be contained.

Shortly thereafter, we honeymooned in Virgin Gorda. The only reason I’m including this picture is that I will never again look this incredibly awesome. (It’s not hubris if I’m looking back on a pic, post-two pregnancies, yeah? I could be looking at an ancestor for how far removed I feel from this girl. An ancestor with a six pack.)

Kids, this is what your mother looked like before all those c-sections.
Your Dad still looks the same. (We are angry at him about that.)

Close to four years ago, we bought this house. This rambling, ramshackle, [financially] ramrodding house. And honestly? He’s yet to make me feel like anything less than queen of my castle. (Except for that time the air duct vent fell and hit me on the face in the shower.)

Yep, that sure is a couch wedged into a hallway. It lived there for longer than I care to remember.
You know what? I don’t even know why I watermarked this picture. Because really.

Three and a half years ago, we welcomed Nora Jane into our little twosome. And things haven’t been quiet/boring since. But, we realized we were pretty good at this sorta thing.

It’s like 1pm in this picture.

So a year and a half later we decided to bring Susannah Mae home from the hospital. And promptly realized just how not bolted down everything in our house was.

She’s suspicious. Rightfully so.

There have been trips. There’s been Italy and Wisconsin and California and even upstate New York that time our plane got rerouted due to an ice storm.

Our home has [mostly] been on an upward trend of kitchens that are useful, windows that open and close, and bathrooms without sewer sinkholes.

And since the day we met, we’ve been in (and involved with) a plethora of shows- some really, really good and some horribly, hilariously bad- and I was certain he was the shining star in each and every one.

He’s still the cutest boy I’ve ever thwacked in the head with a tree branch [onstage]. And he’s definitely the only one who’ll do when it’s time to play that game of “It’s 3am, what’s that sound? Go look.” He’s an absolute marvel to watch as a father- and we clearly create terrific little citizens together.

Yeah, I’d say the first five years have worked out.

Happy anniversary, love. Thanks for making every day feel like a cabana in Virgin Gorda.

A rather crowded cabana.

The mouse ears take up a lot of space.

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