Fifth Year Anniversary

In the five years of our marriage, we have laughed together, cried together and fought against each other. There has been hundreds of fights and hundreds plus one of make-ups. We have said goodbyes to family, friends, pets, jobs and to each other. We have traveled thousands of miles, visited four countries, lived in four different states and purchased our first home. We have labored and celebrated the birth of a son. And we have wept and mourned the loss of two. We have played together, prayed together and for each other. We have dreamed together, hoped together and trusted each other. We have been each other's source of headaches but most importantly, the source of happiness. It has only been half a decade but I know of nothing else. For it truly is very difficult for me to find me where one of us ends and the other one begins.

Happy anniversary, love.

See anniversary blog posts of the past: 2012 2011 2010 2009 2008

Mother's Day

For my fifth Mother's Day (counting Nathaniel in utero), I was treated nothing less than a royalty by the men in my life. I was showered with love, appreciation, gifts and all day was Mommy's-choice.

But I really only asked for one thing: a family photo. To be honest, it was really a gift I can only give to myself. It was a challenge for me to step in front of the camera instead of behind. I don't want Nathaniel to grow up and not have any pictures of his mother because I always have an excuse to hid: I need to lose weight, my hair is a mess, my clothes are old and raggy. Blah blah blah. So this is for you, my beloved son.

We grabbed the tripod, the wireless remote and a blanket. We hopped in the car and pulled over at the first beautiful field we found. No coordinated clothes, no fancy props.

Just us.

I Hope He Remembers Me

I am not a good mother. It's true. I lose my patience too easily and I raise my voice more often than necessary. I complain about my motherly duties and say "I give up" more than I care to admit. Nathaniel is deeply loved and dearly cared for. But he does not have the best mother he deserves.

And so I hope that when Nathaniel grows up and thinks of me, I hope he thinks of the time I took him to the farm to pick strawberries. I hope he remembers driving to the "forest" (SC state road). I hope he remembers laughing as I pretend to slip in the mud. I hope he remembers how I "saved" him when the bug started crawling off the leaf and onto his hand. I hope he remembers me letting him play in the mud. And I hope he remembers me holding his hand.

I pray that when my son thinks of me, he chooses to remember moments like this day.