WHAT THE TEN??
SO. Yesterday afternoon I was feeding Thing 3 and waiting for the husband to come home from work when a nice teenage girl showed up. It's cool, I knew her. She just stood there at the door smiling at me and I was like... "soooo..... what can I do for you?" and she was like "Your husband is surprising you. I'm watching the kids tonight."
A night out?? I don't have to set up the sitter?? Niiiiice. And then, in walks the husband with a dozen roses and chocolate. It has not been the greatest week so I figured it was a "Hey, let's do something nice for you so you stop stomping around the house like an annoyed T-Rex" surprise, but it was actually a "Hey, we met 10 years ago today!" surprise.
HOLY. HOLY. SNAP.
TEN. FREAKING. YEARS. I mean, I know the big wedding one is coming in January but that's still soooo far away. Like 5 months. Because yes, I got married that flipping fast. But... dang.
And instead of being all goopy and dreamy about 10 years together, my mind is reeling from the fact that I am now 10 years older than when I was single. DUDE. What would 10-years-ago say about where I am today? I mean, if I think about it, Jared seems about spot on. He's got a fancy corporate jorb and he's a bishop and wears button-up shirts to work and Dropkick Murphys tee shirts when he's not at church. That sounds about right. But me?? I did NOT picture any of this. I'm not saying I'm hating it, but I also don't feel like I made a conscious effort to become this half-crazed mother of three. I feel like it just kinda happened. I got married. Then I had a kid. Then... then... then... this happened. This is freaking me out.
As I was panicking on the couch today, I decided to take a selfie of me to compare to whatever picture I could find of me 10 years ago. As I was snapping it, it realized behind me was a closet with crap spilling out of it and a photobomb by the Dude, who has been belting out the lyrics to Schoolhouse Rock's Electricity and TROGDOR THE BURNINATOR all day.
Yeah. That sounds about right.
STAY TUNED FOR VINTAGE DIARYLAND POSTS AND CREEPY PICTURES OF 24 YEAR OLD ME.