In honor of our five year anniversary I thought we should renew our vows. Five years ago today we said traditional vows in a church in front of our friends and family. But since then we have remolded a moldy house, travelled to far-flung places, adopted a puppy and had a baby. So, I thought a renewal was definitely in order.
These would be my vows:
I, Sara, take you, J, to be my lawfully wedded husband. I swear, in front of the entire Internet, that I will never abbreviate that to "hubs" or "hubby," not even ironically. I promise to thank you when you make me pancakes on Saturday mornings, when you change Daisy’s diaper after, shall we say, something didn’t agree with her, and when you get up at 5am to let Casey out.
I vow to always put the hair catcher in the shower, so my hair shedding doesn’t get all gross and clog the drain. I vow to always give you the crisper apple or the biggest cup of coffee or the less burnt grilled chicken apple sausage. I vow to try and pretend that I care about all the Giants statistics that happened in 1954 and I vow to watch my DVDs of American President and Notting Hill when you’re not home.
I solemnly swear, in front of the entire Internet, that I will really and truly attempt, as I have so often attempted, to actually take and pick up your dry cleaning within a few days of your request. Moreover, I will not just do it when I have something that needs to be dry cleaned. I swear that I will not heave passive-aggressive sighs when I offer to clean up the kitchen after the marvelous pancake breakfast and have to wipe down the walls to clean the batter that mysteriously ended up there, and I promise to not eat your share of the avocado slices.
I promise to listen when you’re talking. I promise to say your hair looks nice when it does. I promise to tell you as often as I can how funny and handsome and kind and clever and generous and talented I think you are, even though the Internet just collectively vomited when they read that. I promise to never to ask you whether these pants make me look fat, never to get on a plane without telling you I love you first, and never to go to bed angry.
Will I, Sara, buy the Cool Ranch Doritos you like even when they’re not Buy One Get One Free at the grocery store? I will. Will I, Sara, refrain from telling you about the new gray hairs I spot in your goatee? I will. Will I, Sara, rub your shoulders every night on the couch, swayed by your lame excuse that you worked all day while I stayed home with the baby eating bonbons and watching old episodes of Friends, so therefore, your shoulders are more tense and tired than mine? Well, maybe I will, maybe I won’t. You can’t have everything you know.
(Ah, flash me that smile one more time and I probably will).
I promise, above everything, that I will always have your back, that I will always be your biggest fan, that I will always put your name down in the “Who to Contact In Case of Emergency” form and keep your number in the speed dial in my phone. I will try my very best to continue to make this marriage work, to make it flourish, to make it the best decision of our lives. I will look at you every day and think, damn, I got the best one, how did I do that?
This is my solemn vow.