What It Was Like

Our anniversary night was special.  It was filled with love and romance and plans for the future.  It was like this:

I dashed to the little tortilleria across town, digging through all my cupholders and coin purses for the quarters and dimes it would take to purchase one, perfect, pillowy bag of fresh tortillas.  Cash-only makes me into a crazy lady, as the sum-total of my cash usually consists of a few pennies under my car seats.  That day, I managed to find enough coins to make my dream come true.  (Those tortillas are a dream come true.)  I drooled my way home, where dinner -- an especially regular dinner -- was waiting to be made: some of Justin's favorites, Baked Chimichangas. 

While the girls colored at the table, I put the meal together, quick and simple. 

A familiar car pulled up in front of the house, and the girls clamored down from their chairs, racing and yelling towards the front door.  Daddy!  Daddy!  I stepped over and around them, opening the door to my husband of 7 years, almost to the hour.  Through the crazy din of screaming girls, he and I had a tiny kiss before he was overtaken by hands and arms of our daughters.

He pushed through the mob of girliness, and I don't think he could have missed the couch cushions piled all over the living room floor, the dress-up gown and slippers abandoned in the hallway, the floor under the kitchen table peppered with crayons and dropped paper.  The mess. 

We ate dinner across from each other, fielding requests and questions from the girls over my anniversary flowers. 

Mia was scolded repeatedly for trying to climb on the table to hold the flowers.  Lauren was scolded for pushing her plate across the table like a hockey puck.  In the middle of one particular scolding, Justin and I caught eyes over the fray, and burst into smothered laughter; life is crazy right now.

For dessert, the girls each chose a chocolate from my anniversary gift.  Their eyes went wide when they tasted the melty-centered truffles.  Kind of like my eyes did, when I saw Justin walk in the door with them.

After dinner, Mia darted to her room for a game.  She brought Candyland to Justin, where she proceeded to win, 4 times in a row.  I stopped cleaning up the dishes to better pay attention to the game, and discovered the source of her victories: Justin was cheating himself.  I slanted my eyes at him, and he pretended innocence: we've had this talk before.  You can't always let her win!  How will she ever enjoy playing with other people, and possibly LOSING, if she's never actually lost before?!  I know you think it's helping her have fun, but I think it'll make her a sore loser, later.  We were at a standoff.  I sat down, Lauren on my lap, and played the next game with them.  Startlingly, Mia didn't win.  She laughed. 

Bath time was imminent, then.  The girls raced around the house, naked, while Justin and I got pajamas and towels ready.  He stopped me in the hallway, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed me long and hard.  Mia and Lauren raced past, before turning around and jumping all over us, begging for kisses of their own.  We all marched into the bathroom for the splashiest bath, ever.  With our daughters slip-sliding in the tub, Justin and I leaned against the counter and admired our creations: two wet, sudsy, loud, and precious girls. 

Later, with both girls begging for Daddy! to put them to bed, I closed my eyes and tried to remember: had I ever, ever dreamed life would be like this, 7 years after we'd been married?  10 years after we'd been a couple?  If I did, I couldn't have known the perfect details.  The squealing daughters, the water-splashed bathroom floor, the tiny arms wrapped around daddy's neck. 

I couldn't have known, which is as it should be.  Every day is a surprise.  Every not-so-stolen kiss in the hallway amid reaching, demanding kids, is perfect.

And so, our anniversary night was special.  It was one little night in the tall stack of nights that will make up the rest of our lives together.