10 Years

[Caution: cheesy lovey-dovey post ahead. May induce nausea.] We celebrated ten years of marriage today (May 31). We always enjoy doing something special together on our anniversary, but this year it seemed a little bit extra special. This year Candice and I both felt like we had passed a significant milestone. We’ve been looking at pictures of the past ten years and remembering what we did on each anniversary. We talked about friendships and trips and memories made together. We picked out our favorite moments from our married life, like the time we had a dance party in the car the whole way to a hotel in Ft. Worth, only to be told they wouldn’t give us a room because we were too young—you had to be 21 to stay at their fancy “Residence Inn”. Or the morning our sweet boy came into the world in a hot, tiny room in the Cambridge hospital. We reminisced about places we’d been, like the white beach where we spent our 5th anniversary or the boys’ school in Belize where we went on mission trips. We remembered our favourite meals, like the time we had out-of-this-world guacamole made fresh at the table, not with lime juice but orange juice, while sitting on the riverwalk in San Antonio (2nd anniversary). Or the fresh tomato salad served out of a house on the side of a mountain outside of Chamonix, France. It’s been so fun to look back. It’s hard to believe that it’s been ten years! It went by too quickly, but as we were going through the years we realized how much we had shared and how many memories we had to laugh about. Time has only made things more meaningful… the more history you have with someone, the more you’re bound together with them, whether it’s friendship or marriage—the latter, of course, is not altogether different from the former. I can’t imagine what we’ll be saying after 20 or 30 years (Lord willing)!

We were talking the other day about our wedding… we had Domino’s pizza for our rehearsal dinner. We always laugh about that. Apparently we cared so little about anything at that point except being together that we didn’t care whether we had a nice dinner. We now realize that we could have had something a little more memorable or symbolic, but we were practically kids, and by all indications we were about as concerned with “ceremony” as any other 19 year old. We tell people we “grew up together” when they ask how we met, because we really don’t remember “meeting” as 8 year-olds at church. But there’s another sense in which we really did “grow up together” after we got married in that, at some point along the way, we grew up to be proper adults with a family of our own. We learned a lot along the way, but what we learned, we learned together. We never really had the chance to learn to live on our own and become independent… I moved out of my freshman dorm room directly into our first “married housing” apartment at East Central University (where, by the way, the rent was $300 a month with all bills included! Can you even imagine?) Before I asked Candice to marry me, I asked a wise man what he thought. I could tell he thought I was crazy, but he didn’t say, “Don’t do it, you’re only 18 for Pete’s sake!” (We definitely heard this a couple of times, but mostly from people who didn’t know us well or were not thrilled with their own marriages.) Instead, he said, “Well… everybody’s got their own story.” Our story, of course, is not everybody’s story and probably it’s not always the best way to do it. But, it is our story and that’s what matters. We actually really enjoy hearing other people’s stories about how they got together—somehow the stories always seem to suit the people just right. And I think ours suits us as well.

As for our anniversary this year, we had a great day. After weeks of rain and grey skies, the weather turned beautiful. We ate lunch outside, made homemade ice-cream, and had a very special dinner out at a fancy place :).

Here’s where it all began:

We were 16 here, and this picture was taken at summer camp outside the church’s Falls Creek cabin about three weeks after we started dating. And here’s where it all “officially” began:

That was ten years ago. And here we are today.

I wrote this to Candice today, but I think it’s okay to share it here:

“My love, your friendship and love have been the great treasure of my life. I am shocked at how quickly 10 years can pass when they are filled with continual laughter, love, and companionship. We’ve been given a precious gift that few have tasted and many would count as priceless: the chance to spend a lifetime with your one true love. It’s not by chance, though… it’s from God. If anything at all is without doubt to be the purpose and gift of God, it is us together.”

Happy anniversary, honey. Here’s to another decade, and many more!

Asher: Motorcycle Man

Here’s a video of Asher riding his tricycle around. He doesn’t really pedal yet, he just sort of walks it around, but he’s getting pretty good at it :). He’s super grown-up, and loves his sunglasses. Yes, he is wearing camo pants and pink-orange boat shoes… that’s how he rolls.

Ballpark baby

Asher and I are back in Cambridge and trying to process our time with family and friends and adjust to being in Cambridge again. (More difficult than I anticipated!) I hope to share a few fun stories of our time in Oklahoma (and Boston). We had such a terrific time! Asher and I stayed with my sister Cara for a few days (okay, more than a few... As in, they were probably ready to give us the boot by the time we finally left!) It's baseball season for my nephews so we wanted to watch them play. One evening we headed to Rylan's scrimmage. It was at a nice ballpark that had playground equipment scattered between baseball fields. It was practically the 3rd inning by the time we got Asher off the toy train and to the bleachers. He was having a blast! Turns out, little league scrimmages happen during a toddlers dinner time. I had taken lots of food and drink for Asher and attempted to feed him there. He promptly threw his apple in the dirt, smeared peanut butter all over my jacket and crumbled rice cakes into pieces. I offered him several different things, trying to figure out what might actually make it into his mouth. About this time, the people behind us started laughing and heckling me, asking me what else could I possibly have in that bag?! A Subway sandwich? A couple of slices of pizza? Hey, a mama's gotta be prepared!

Another weekend, both of my nephews had baseball tournaments in the city and we decided to tag along. (Since I'm all flexible and
go-with-the-flow these days! ;)) We had a full day at the ballpark, with a short break in the middle for Asher to take a snooze. We got to watch Dalton play some exciting baseball and get some really good hits. There were some openings in the cinderblock of the dugout and Asher kept sticking his face in and yelling, "Dalto, Dalto?" Dalton would stick his hand through and play with him. But sometimes Dalt would be busy with other things, like eating 100 Starbursts, begging his mom for a Dr Pepper instead of another water, or playing Minecraft on the iPhone... All things a 1st grader does during a baseball tournament. If this was going on when Asher called for Dalt, one of Dalton's teammates would yell, "Dalton! Your baby cousin!" and he would come running. :)

Between games, Dalton would take Asher on walks around the ballpark. They went to see other kids, find treasures and generally make mama anxious when they left my line of sight for more than a few seconds. If you've spent much time around Asher, you know that him willingly walking away from me and out of sight is a BIG deal. He has become so brave and just loves his cousins. And I think the feeling is mutual. At one point my sister Cara and I saw that Dalton's team was warming up and practicing together and when Cara asked Dalton why he wasn't over there, he said, "Mom! It's okay! I told my coach... I'm spending time with my cousin!"

Between games the big boys were sitting outside the dugout and Asher had to go get right in the middle of them. One boy helped him pile dirt all over another boy's cleat. I guess dirt is fun at any age. We stayed at the ballpark through dinner time, so I got the best the concession stand had to offer: baked potato with a side of shredded cheese. (I did have my Mary Poppins bag, but I was trying to hide my crazy after the last ball game experience...) I thought I would get Asher to sit down and neatly help him eat the baked potato with a fork. (This is where all the seasoned parents out there howl with laughter at my ignorance.) He wouldn't sit for a hot second… shoved two fistfuls of cheese into his mouth and ran off to play.

Asher came home sun-kissed, exhausted and filthy from head to toe. Let's just say there was some dirt in the bottom of the bathtub that night!

Passport, please?

Asher and I made a last minute trip to Oklahoma on Friday and I'm happy to report we're still alive! I was a little anxious about flying for 10.5 hours alone with Asher, but the time in the airport turned out to be the hardest part. I had Asher strapped to my back, a large across the body bag slung on and was carrying his carseat in front of me. Consider yourself warned: Heathrow does not have trolleys. The flight went super smoothly -- I was prepared. We bought Asher a few new toys and books, which I wrapped up for him. I had lots of snacks and a few comfort things for him. I really had nothing to worry about... he did so great. He played peekaboo with his blanket, played with his headphones, tried to buckle his seatbelt over and over and LOVED walking the aisles. I didn't end up giving him the new toys and books but he did eat a TON of snacks. He was truly an angel. There were no tears (his or mine!) and the only time he fussed even for a second was when I put him in the Ergo to attempt to get him to sleep and he didn't want to sleep. I put him back in his carseat and eventually told him I was tired and was going to sleepy's house and closed my eyes. He grabbed my hand and held it until he drifted off about 20 minutes later. :) He hadn't napped at all the whole day and finally fell asleep at 8pm (Cambridge time) and slept the last 3 hours of the flight. He woke up as we landed and was in a daze in the Ergo through the very long immigration line. Three very short stories from the immigration line:

1. A gentleman with a very strong Texas drawl of an accent said, "It's like Wal-Marts in here... only got 4 lanes open." I'm not sure if it was the accent or the reference to Wal-Marts that tickled me, but I giggled to myself.

2. Asher and I had the middle two of four seats on the plane, with men on either side of us. I chatted briefly with each of them, but didn't interact much beyond the first few minutes (other than a fist pump when Asher finally dozed off). Later, we saw one of them in line and he said, "Where's your husband?" --confused look from me-- pause-- realizing he thinks the other man was with us, "Oh! He's back in Cambridge... I don't know that man who was sitting next to me." He laughed and said, "Oh, well I guess I have to take back all of my nasty comments. I was just telling my friend here what a lousy husband and dad he was, not helping you with your son at all." My thoughts? Darn! He probably would have been more helpful had he not thought Asher and I were traveling with my "husband"!

3. It was our turn to go up to the immigration officer's window. The young guy started asking the normal questions, "Why were you in the UK? Where do you live? What's your husband studying?" I said theology (while not entirely accurate, it's just easier to say this). The officer looked up from our passports and said, "Studying theology all the way in England? Why? He's gonna be the next pope or somethin'?" I laughed, thinking he was referring to recent current events, and said something about there being an opening. I only got a blank stare back... he clearly had no idea what I was talking about.

Once we got through immigration and I had to strap Asher back into the car seat for our 2 hour drive, he was FINISHED. He was not happy and was letting us know it. It felt like 1am to him so I couldn't blame the poor little guy. But we made it to my mom's house and finally got to bed. Asher was in meltdown mode (hello 4am) and was a little freaked out by the new place so I let him sleep with me. Throughout the night he kept reaching over for me, putting his hands on my face, holding my hand, pulling my arm around him, kissing me and generally being the sweetest kid on the planet. Even though I was exhausted and desperately needed to sleep, I just loved how cuddly and precious he was being. It also reminded me why we don't co-sleep! :) The next day I knew I had to get him in his own bed and he hasn't had any trouble with it at all.

We're finally adjusted to the central time zone, this morning being the first day Asher has slept past 7am. Hooray! We've had lots and lots of good time already with family and we're missing Collin of course, but that's a post for another day.