Five years.
The older I get the faster time seems to go. I'm sure this is true for everyone, but I can't get over it. It seems like just yesterday I was this goofy little nineteen year old trying to casually flirt with my shift manager at the movie theater, and here we are, almost six years later, married for five years.
We've had a lot of fun lately thinking about all the things we have done/accomplished in our time together. We've lived in three different cities, had 14 different jobs between the two of us, have taken 14 trips together, bought two houses, adopted two cats, and now are just a little over 10 weeks away from meeting our first child. We always joked that we would be waiting seven to ten years before we started having kids, and even though that was definitely not true, it would have been so easy to continue spending time just the two of us. We have so much fun together regardless of what we're doing, and we've loved traveling, trying new things, and just exploring together. We don't intend to slow down once we have the baby, but I will always cherish these past five years that we've had to ourselves!
Onto the sappy stuff:
I honestly couldn't have asked for a better person to hang out with for the rest of my life. He is smart, silly, hard working, adventurous, funny, sweet, and so many other things. I love how hard he works to make sure we never have to settle for anything, and I know that when it comes to providing for our family, he will never let us down. I love how he is always willing to do things for others. I love that he never complains when I ask him to help fold the laundry, vacuum, or switch sides of the bed with me six times throughout the night. I love that I can never stay mad at him for too long, no matter how hard I try, because he always either does something nice or makes me laugh.
He really is the best. Anyone that can put up with as much sassiness, tears, and bad jokes as he does from me is someone special, and I'm glad I snatched up a good one before someone else did. Love you, B.
