Thursday, March 13

It Takes Two

To make a thing go riiiight!
Am I right?
I am.

Today marks our two year wedding anniversary!
Two years might not sound like much, but to me it's everything.  Trust me, I don't think I know anywhere near as much as I will need to for the long haul...but I'm learning every day.
I mean, the Mr. America thing was a total surprise.  I never knew I had married a celeb.  Now that I look at it, the blacked out windows make total sense.

I do know one thing for sure, communication is the MOST important ingredient when making a happy, healthy marriage.
Don't even care what you say....

Nothing, not one thing, can change my mind about this.

Yes, I love this man, with all of my heart and soul I love this man.
He's my happy beginning and end of each day.
He is my rock, the place I come when I'm sad, discouraged, or lost.
He finds me.
I absolutely adore him for all that he is.
I'm inspired by all that he pushes me to be.
Talking to him...occasionally at him...completes my day.

If I wasn't able to talk to him, tell him everything, this wouldn't work.
We could have all of the love in the world, the attraction, and the common interests, but if we didn't share our thoughts...we wouldn't connect.

Now, maybe you're relationship is different. No two couples are alike. But for us, we can lose touch quickly if we don't tell each other what is on our mind.  Maybe I can't help, but I can listen.  At least then I know what's bothering him....and vice versa.

It's us, and it works :).

But there's not just 2 of us, there are 3, and we are celebrating our second 'Fammiversary'.
Yes, I did that;).

Caden is just as much a part of the last 2 years as we are, and I thought it would be neat to take a look back and compare pictures! (Come on, it will be...)
Here are our engagement pictures!
Caden was so small!
...and so were my weenie-arms, yeesh...
I was curling 5's then....nickels that is......

So two years following, we were doing this on March 13th, 2012
Charles couldn't wait for his salt n' peppa to come in....
Just kidding, that's my dad ;).

We made it official..
He wore the cow tie and all.

Wuv, sweet wuv!

Then, the day after we shot these...
Look how young...
(I don't think Tye-dye was ever "in".)

Here I am, taller than him...

2 years later, here he is...
Handsome as ever.

Here we are, he's taller than me now..
But I still out-weigh him...heh:)

There they were...
a hero and his min-me.

Here they are, thick as thieves.
And the two most special people I know.

My heart can't hold much more, I'm afraid.

There we were.

Here we are:)

Two fammiversaries down, the rest of our lives to go.

Maybe it doesn't take two...maybe it's 3.
Yes, I think that's it.


Tuesday, March 4

That's Makes Me Mrs. America, By Default

A few weeks ago, I began noticing a trend.  It was a Saturday, and Chuck and I were working out together.  Yeah, together.
This is something I really never thought would happen, seeing as he says, "you do all the un-fun abs...lunges..", all the time.  And he's right, I'm an un-fun gym rat who sweats a lot and doesn't talk to anyone.  Guilty!  However, to force myself to do the chest and arms(the muscle groups I find to be the MOST boring), he has agreed to let me work in with him on the weekends.  He's a sweetie like that. 
Anyway, a few Saturdays ago, in the midst of bench-pressing, I started noticing him taking a weird resemblance to someone.  He knows everyone, and because of that he is constantly throwing up a hand, or saying, "hey!" with a grin.  It took me a few moments but then I had it!

True Life: I workout with Miss America.
But without the flowers.
Or a crown.
OR annoying sash.
And I can't say that those sleeves would allow for mighty flexing.

SO what I'm sayin' is... I workout with Mr. America, and by default, that makes me Mrs. America.
Go ahead.  Take it all in.

I must say, since this discovery was made, some things have changed around here.....
-I think about ironing his shirts.
(But I'm certain Mrs. America would have someone do this for her, and so do I. Mr. America.)
-I wipe the sweat off of the gym equipment before he uses it.
(Technically it's my sweat, and I generally just rub my entire body across it and the problem seems to take care of itself.)
-I no longer wait impatiently as someone(no doubt an admirer) strikes up a conversation with Mr. America DURING a set.  I mean, I can't blame them.
(I smile off into space, counting the beads of sweat rolling down my back, and imagine that 'this is how Jackie O must have felt'.)
- I accept the fact that people of Mr. America's popularity cannot be expected to offer a good "spot", and in return I don't do much dumbbell work on chest/arm days.
(I still can't remember how many times I rep'd 65lb pullovers that day, but it did mess up a perky ponytail.)

All games aside, I'm proud to be married to such a good man :).