Yesterday marked twelve years of marriage for us. I say "marked" because it wasn't much of a celebration. Around 4PM I phoned Doug to tell him I was taking a zero in good wifery for the day. I hadn't been able to come up with a gift. I'd looked for tickets to a concert, cruised REI's website, panned the net for a nearby classical guitar performance. Nada. I even made a card on the computer but after printing it, realized it was so lame I chucked it in the trash.
"Let's postpone the whole Anniversary thing until June" I said.
Doug complied. He hadn't found anything for me either. Which really meant we hadn't given ourselves time to come up with something thoughtful, nor did we need anything. And with school ending, recitals, and birthdays, May is just too crazy.
We had several after-dinner commitments this week so we opted against being gone one more night. We just expected a normal day, and it was. Except that it rained the entire day. Steady and dismal - making the patches of grass and weeds in our flower beds look conspicuous and large.
Sami slept an extra two hours in the morning. I couldn't wake her. When she finally lumbered out of her bedroom she was sporting a fever of 101. Check out that awesome hair.
Most everyone has the sniffles, including me. Doug won't touch me with a ten foot pole. Maybe twenty. And I don't blame him. He's running his first half marathon Saturday and who wants to run 13.2 miles with a high-flow nasal drip?
So much for romance.
But here's the highlight for you. I had my first mammogram yesterday. Have you had one yet? Geesh. Here's how mine went.
"Hi, my name is Celeste. I'll be doing your mammo today. Just hoist your double A, I mean triple A cup of nothing onto this platform." Um hmm... how is this going to work? I think. "Alright, pull your shoulder blades together, now stick your chin up in the air like that. Wait. Let's get that wrinkle out over there. Okay. Don't move... don't move. Now stop breathing." Wha? "That's right, don't breathe while I squeeze your breast between these two slabs of automated machinery until it's flat as a pancake. Or you yell. Then I'll take your picture!"
Repeat four times.
With my family history I know this is important. Really it is.
But not fun.
After "the mammo" I wait twenty minutes for the hospital lab to reopen from their lunch break only to tell me I can't have my blood drawn because I didn't come fasting. I had no idea I was having a full cholesterol work-up. I thought it was just peri-menopausal hormone stuff.
"Come back tomorrow morning at 9" she says. "Do you have kids?"
"Yes" I tell her. "Bring them with you! We have things for them to play with. We love kids."
I laugh. "That's so nice. But I don't think you want me to bring my kids. I have two sets of twins four and under. I'll need to find a sitter and come back another day."
She pauses. "Oh. That's probably a good idea. Thanks for coming in!"
Later, Eliza is boo-hooing because she is soooo hungry and truthfully, her plight is justified. I haven't been grocery shopping in over a week and for some reason Costco feels like it's across the state line. We have no snacks in the house, or anything that even resembles a snack. So she settles on a can of green beans.
"Green beans?" I ask, surprised. I try to talk her out of it, but she's convinced if she puts salt and pepper on them they will taste great.
Dinnertime rolls around and I try to get the girls to help me clean up downstairs. They've been building forts.
Why is that one big fort always spawns little ones? Like tadpoles. What you think will be a benign play shelter ends up sucking every blinking toy-thing into its recesses. Everything that can be covered by a blanket, is. Every available container is turned over and dumped out. The entire downstairs looks like we've had an earthquake, or a very unsupervised play date.
Stay with me. Here comes the celebration part.
Doug brings dinner home (hurray - I don't have to cook).
And a cake from Backers. (Mrs. Backers celebrates most occasions with us.)
We sing "Happy Anniversary" to ourselves, cut the cake, dance with the kids for a bit, then get them ready for bed.
While passing each other in the boys' bedroom Doug says, "I was watching all of them in the living room and I thought, they are better than any present we could give each other."
And he is so right.
Happy Anniversary hon.