You guys, tomorrow JW and I have been married for five years.
And we’ve been a couple for ten years, almost.
And we’ve known each other for 18 years, in the spring.
All of those things are important chickadees, and they’re all worth celebrating.
In five years of marriage, so many things have changed and also, thankfully, a lot has stayed the same.
We still love sushi. And football. And Chicago.
And each other. Like, a lot.
JW still makes me laugh the most, and I still love the look on his face when I’ve managed to do something just a little crazier, this time.
He’s a good friend, a great husband, and the best dad. Like, when Theo wakes up in the middle of the night and cries, “I want my Daddy,” I want to be like, yeah, get in line, so does everybody else.
I’m pretty lucky he’s the guy who carries the heavy stuff and opens the windows in my life.
Literally and figuratively, in case you were wondering.
In five years, we’ve gotten some serious shit done, good and bad.
We’ve finished MBAs (well Jon has, I’ve just been along for the ride), and lost people we loved. We’ve battled through my unexpected RA (which is now blissfully controlled), found new jobs, purchased a home and a car, run a lot of races, and made people we love.
We’ve fought about silly things and important things, because that’s part of being in a great partnership.
We’ve got each other to show for it, and of course, we’ve got this, too.
Happy anniversary, JW, and thanks for being the best thing, always.