9 Years.

Here is what a 9-year wedding anniversary for a couple with three children under the age of 6 looks like:

We won’t get each other gifts because our gift is going to see a movie in an actual movie theater tonight after we eat dinner with our kids and put most of them to bed.

We can’t recall the last movie we saw outside of our living room.

I bought him a card today, the day of our anniversary. I had two small kids with me. One was destroying the card aisle while the other one screeched from the cart. I grabbed the first thing that didn’t look lame and jetted out of there.

The envelope and card are both rumpled.

I asked Robbie last night, “Did you set your alarm?” Thinking to myself that I could make a special breakfast for us to eat. “Yeah, I set it,” he said. WRONG. We overslept by an hour and he barely had time to throw on clothes and brush his teeth before grabbing me in a bear hug and wishing me a happy anniversary. So romantic.

Our children are unimpressed by the fact that our love is the same age as a third-grader.

None of this matters, because I have had 9 years with this man experiencing his selfless love. Oh, he’s an ass. But he loves me so much that he always puts my happiness first, which makes me wants to put his happiness first, and on and on it goes in a sickeningly sweet circle that just keeps growing like a rubber band ball.

Happy anniversary, Robbie Hobbs. I knew when I married you that my life would never be boring.

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