Wish Upon a Star

When I was in high school, I used to wish upon a star to marry my husband, Jon. Every shooting star I saw, I hoped he would ask me to marry him. Once, in a state of hormone-filled loved, I asked him to marry me.

He looked like I had asked him to cut off his left foot with a rusty saw. So I kept on wishing.

Two engagements and eight years later, we did get married. So no more wishing on stars, right?

Wrong.

Two years later, we tried to conceive our first child. Unfortunately, my body was a mess from taking hormonal birth control, and trying to get all of that junk out of my system was quite a challenge. After being so responsible during my early adult years, not getting pregnant and earning my bachelor's degree, then my master's degree, it felt like I deserved to get pregnant quickly.

I love children and I wanted to be a mommy in the worst way. I distinctly recall going to our local bakery one Saturday morning several months after we started trying to conceive. There was a mom there with her four year old son. She ordered coffee and a pastry and told her son to pick what he wanted. He chose a gigantic mint brownie and chocolate milk, as she smiled in a way that said that this was OK with her because it was a special morning. I looked on, wistfully, knowing that these were the moments that I ached for.

And then I cried all the way home and stuffed myself full of doughnuts.

That summer, there seemed to be many meteor showers. Jon and I would hear them announce one on the news and we would wait all day to spend the evening on a blanket, under the stars, pointing out the ones that streaked by to each other. Perfect moments to wish for my baby.

Nine months later, after we had tried for 15 months and I had started giving up hope that we would conceive naturally, I found out that I was pregnant.

Just like marriage, the beginning of motherhood was not easy. But, when I take Amelia out for lunch and she leans over to kiss me and pats my arm while saying "Aww!!", I remember that moment in the bakery and realize that my special memories of motherhood are being made, right now.

At that point, what was there left to wish for?

A job. For my husband.

My entire pregnancy, Jon attended the police academy at our local community college. He had already been in the Marine Reserves for six years and earned his bachelor's degree. During the police academy and the first two trimesters of pregnancy, he worked from 7:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., then would attend the academy from 5:00 to 10:00 p.m. Monday through Friday. No joke. In some ways, it was the perfect time for me to be pregnant, since Jon got to skip witnessing some of my hormonal swings and I could sleep my little exhausted heart out. And, with a baby on the way, the extra income that a police officer's salary would bring was welcome.

That only took 1.5 years of wishing on stars to accomplish. But it finally did happen.

Last week, on a nice evening after Amelia went to bed, Jon started a bonfire and we sat together, fingers intertwined while we gazed at both the fire's flames and the sky's stars. That's when it happened. I saw a shooting star.

And I had nothing to wish for.

That's not to say that my life is perfect. No one's is. Nor do I believe that all this wishing I do has resulted in our good fortune. I believe that prayer and spirituality, along with a strong marriage, have carried us through the past few years. It still does now, every day. When Jon is stressed over his new, much more stressful and demanding job, it does not seem like a charmed life. But, during that moment by the fire, I realized how much I have, and how very grateful I am.

Wishes do come true.

My Big Surprise

No, I'm not pregnant, so if you read the title and that was your guess, sorry to disappoint!


Yesterday was one of those days where everything grated on my nerves. The day started with Amelia waking up at 4 a.m. and unable to fall back to sleep. Luckily I was able to rearrange my day by starting work by 5:30 so I could nap when she got tired at 8:30 a.m. When I woke up, I felt better and thought the day would improve.


It did. But not for, oh, seven more hours.


Jon and I could not communicate on any kind of civil or understandable level. You know those conversations where neither of you can say anything right? Yeah, it was like that. Then, this happened:

Long story short, the state bought a sliver of land from us to widen the curved road in front of our house. They were supposed to take down a tree, but apparently the tree fell the wrong way and knocked down the limbs on the tree above. I was not in the mood for this and walked out on to the porch to glare at the workers.

Luckily, I have a silly little girl who is pretty good at brightening my mood:

I got through the rest of the day of work with no big plans for the evening. Jon had mentioned he had a potential surprise for me, but after our bickering in the morning, I asked him not to do anything special for me.

He didn't listen, and I'm glad. This was the surprise:

My own kayak! I'm so excited! Jon bought his own with his Christmas money, and although I was planning on getting own with some of our tax refund, I had started to decide against it. I rationalized that we have too many bills, too many things that need repair, all of those boring adult things. Apparently he had found it for sale online a couple months ago, and he had planned on it being my Valentine's Day gift. It took a while to be shipped for some reason, though, hence me getting it now. It couldn't have happened on a better day.


Some girls prefer diamonds, and those are nice. But I prefer kayaks :)

The Numbers

Today is November 7th, and what I call my secondary anniversary. Fourteen years ago I sat in my parents driveway in Jon's black Dodge pick-up truck as we debated if we should 'go out' with each other. You know, like, be boyfriend and girlfriend and stuff. Fourteen years seems like a crazy long time when you put into perspective that I'm 30 years old. That's half my life, people. Not to say that it's been one seamless relationship without any breaks, but mostly, we've been a couple since high school.

All day I've thought about what kind of mushy things I could write about our relationship, but blah, isn't that boring? Then this afternoon I just could not stop thinking about fourteen years and how many events, emotions, celebrations, and upsets that includes. So here are the numbers...

In fourteen years, we've:

Been engaged twice

Married once

Shared one apartment and one house

Owned five different vehicles

Had five pets

Earned three college degrees

Attended one funeral

Attended many more weddings

Gotten in countless fights

Forgiven each other just as many times

Been separated by military trainings and deployment three times

Had one beautiful little girl

Christmas 2010

Happy secondary anniversary, darling husband <3

Fifth Anniversary

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary with my husband. I feel like this number is somewhat small and an unfair reflection of what we've been through together. Why?

Because we've been together for almost half our lives.

Oh. Maybe I shouldn't put it that way. Almost makes me feel old.

In any case, we started dating when we were 16. This November, we will have been together 14 years. On and off, that is. We aren't some super couple that have lasted consistently. Oh, no. Although I did tell him that I wanted to marry him when I was 18. Luckily we were not that foolish to tie the knot back then. Young marriages may work for some couples. We would have killed each other by now. Or maybe my family would have killed him. Either way. My persistence paid off though, and after almost nine years of dating, we got married.

Through those years we have survived several break ups, two engagements, his deployment to Kuwait, a wedding, two bachelor's degrees, one master's degree, deaths in the family, purchasing a home, new jobs, a new baby, and a job loss. Sometimes I want to spend every waking moment with him. Sometimes I want to choke the life out of him. I don't know why in wedding vows they don't just get right to the point and express it that way. For better or for worse is just so bland.

In any case, life with a baby, as well as limited funds, has shrunk down our celebration just a bit. No jetting off to some tropical island for a week or anything. Instead, we will be grilling burgers, having some adult beverages, and having a bonfire in our backyard. I wouldn't have it any other way. Who wouldn't want to spend a special day with these two?