6.29.12

It's been five years (and a few weeks now that I'm actually getting down to writing this) since Greg and I got married.  Greg has now outlasted all over my other roommates, except Amber.   I think Amber and I roomed together for eight or nine years.  Greg's almost there.  

I considered making this one of super corny posts where I ooze and gooze about how much I love Greg and what a wonderful husband he is and how perfect our marriage is and how I can't wait to spend eternity with him, but I decided against it.  One, it would be totally out of character for me. Two, the only person who wants to read that nonsense is Greg and even that is questionable, and I know for a fact that Greg doesn't read this blog.  This is where I put stuff if I want to keep it a secret from Greg.  Just know that I love Greg.  If you'd like more details, well, read a different blog.   I decided instead to make this post about me.  That's right, our anniversary post is going to be about me.

While in Washington, I decided to try this little baby on.  Still fits.  Like a glove.  Like it did the day we got married.  And, yes, Emma, my butt still looks amazing in this dress and the top is still too big.  And it's super uncomfortable.  Seriously.  That was the first thought I had when putting my wedding dress on again--not, wow what a pretty dress, good choice Heather, or wow you still fit in your wedding dress, you're amazing Heather, but holy cow this is the most uncomfortable thing I have ever worn, what was I thinking?  Nevertheless, it fits and I win.

Later that night, after the kids went to bed, I was helping my mom rewrite a Spice Girls song from Girls' Camp.  We thought we were pretty funny until Elder Clark came in (the Elders live with my parents) and ruined it.  Little Baby Elder Clark maybe remembered the song.  So of course I had to make fun of him (obviously)

Me: How old are?

EC: 20

Me: What year were you born?

EC: 1992

Me: Wait a minute, you are the same age as my students that first year I taught.  You're such a baby.

EC (100% serious.  This kid hardly cracks a smile): How old are you? 36?

Me:...

Seriously, Elder Clark, I'm 26.  26!  Either I look old or you are real bad at math.  I'm going with bad at math.

A few days later, my aunt, as a compliment (I think) said that I was starting to look like an adult.  

So five years.  I've been married to Greg longer than I was in high school.  Longer than I was in college.  I've got two kids.  And a house (that I don't live in, but I have it nonetheless).  I'm old.  I thought I still looked like a twelve-year-old.  I guess not.

While in Washington, I had convinced myself that people thought my kids were my mom's because she and I are so young looking.  I wondered what other people thought our relationship was.  Maybe I was Mom's sister.  Maybe we were just friends.  But I've deceived myself.  I'm 36, apparently.

So after five years of bliss and wonder and gag, gag, gag with Greg, all I've gotten is old.  But, at least I still fit in my dress.