Really, it's just lovely for whenever..
This is it:
|He proposed way up on those rocks one rainy day 15 years ago...|
Anyway, we both had Wednesdays off, so we would take turns. One week, he would make the drive up to my hometown, and the next week I would make the drive down to him. And rain or shine, we would always go on some sort of adventure, because we only saw each other that one day a week all the way up until we got married. Wednesdays were my favorite. This particular Wednesday when he did the big "ask" was just a regular, random Wednesday like any other. No special day. No Holiday. Just a normal Wednesday.
|This is the water behind Sand Beach. My boys prefer playing here because they can find eels. Grody.|
So, on this day - this very random day - when he proposed in song, and when the last line of his chorus was "Will you marry me?" I thought he was joking, because most certainly he was going to wait until my birthday or maybe Christmas....not just a regular, random Wednesday. So I laughed and said: "Sure!" But, then when he got down on one knee and pulled out the ring, I burst into tears. I'm awesome like that. I rarely cry, but when I do, I choose really stellar times to do so. And it wasn't the "I'm so happy he proposed kind of tears." It was more like the "I'm panicking because I'm pretty sure you didn't ask my Dad, and that's the way you're supposed to do these things" kind of tears.
And his response was: "I did. And he said yes. What are you going to say?"
So, then I cried harder and said yes. And then I noticed all of the people walking by and staring at us. And then I figured they all probably thought we were fighting or something. So, then I told every. single. person. who walked by that he just asked me to marry him. And that I really was happy. Even though I was a snotty mess.
Fourteen years and four babies later.
How I love him.
He is the joy of my heart, and I would follow him to the Ends of the Earth.
He's also pretty funny. And I like funny. So, I shall keep him.
Which makes me really, really love him more.
And I really, really love watching him with his wee baby girl.
Oh. My goodness. Precious.
I found him to look very Amish-like, and so I renamed him Joseph Yoder.
Now his beard is thinner and he looks more like a Kevy.
Most people come to the ocean...you know....for the ocean.
My boys come for the eels.
And once they re-discover it's glory, they always run wild.
I never pack their swimsuits because the water is bone-achingly freezing, and I always figure they will never want to swim...but they always do....so they always just end up going in their regular clothes. I forget that wee little boys don't care about not feeling their extremities.
Opposites attract they say.
If I were to rate my children when they were babies on the "contentment scale," Ransom would win hands-down as being my happiest baby. That child came home on a schedule, he hardly ever cried, and he was just an all around uber content newborn. Kaden was fussy his first three months of life but then became content after he got on a bit of a rhythm, and Jesse was a train wreck pretty much his entire first year of life.
So far, Miss London is #2 on the not-so-happy scale.
If she is being held, she is chill. If she is on her own, she is not.
God knew what He was doing in giving me a happy happy boy-joy for baby #3. London may have never made her debut. Lucky for her, I am a much more chill Mama by baby #4, so it doesn't bother me too awfully much.
Good thing she's squishy. And delishy...
|A dead jelly fish find. Glorious.|
Sand Beach always brings back super happy memories.
It's where it all began...and it's where the possibility of four wee Hoolies first came to be...
So very glad he asked...