Twenty Years

Twenty years ago today, I was a 14 year old freshman at Edgewater High School in Orlando. I had recently broken up with a boy named Justin and wasn't terribly upset about it. I had a friend who had a very hot older brother, but I figured he would never notice me. I was 14, he was 17, and all the girls were crazy about him.

I was surprised when I saw him waiting at my school bus. The first words he ever said to me were, "You finally look decent today." What a line, right? In 9th grade, I had a bad black tee shirt habit, and this particular day, I happened to be wearing green. I still love wearing black, but it's not my best color. Anyway, after flubbing his line, he said, "I heard you broke up with Justin?" I nodded. He said, "Wanna go out?" and I think I nodded again. He nodded and walked away. No hug, no attempted kiss. I got on the bus and my friend said, "Did he just ask you out!" I of course squealed and said, "YESSSSSSSS!" For the remainder of the school year, we were inseparable.

Most high school relationships last a month or so. I'm proud (and sort of shocked) to report that this hot guy is none other than Mr. R, and it is the twentieth anniversary of him insulting me and asking me out all in front of the cheesewagon.

• I never imagined that we'd marry a year after I graduated high school.
  
• That we'd have three babies that fast.
  
• That he'd end up as a truck driver.
  
• That we would nearly split up in 2000 but manage to get back together.
• That we would both become saved Christians.
  
• That autism would become a big part of our lives.
• That I'd have a drum kit in my dining room.
  
• That he would cry when our kids were born, that he'd be the most amazing father.
  
• That he would do silly things like give them horsey rides when he was so tired from work, and teach them how to fish, and ride bicycles, and watch "Sweepin Booty" (that's Sleeping Beauty to the layfolk) with them and hold them tight when Malifecent would get scary at the end.
  
• That he would get rid of his waterbed for me when I was pregnant with Missy, and buy a normal bed, because my back hurt so bad.
  
• That he shaved my legs for me when I couldn't see them anymore when I pregnant, and tie my shoes for me, and even learned how to put my bras on when I was in a car accident and couldn't move my left arm for a few months.
  
• That he learned how to make the best cup of coffee ever just to make me happy, and knows not to put mayo on my sandwiches, and grills my steak to a perfect medium rare just for me.
  
• That he can just look at me, and know if I'm sad, or ticked off, or just deep in thought.
• That he can look at me when I'm wearing sweats, slippers, a tank top, my hair in a bun and my glasses on, and still think I'm cute.
• That he can look at my purple stretch marks, and instead of being disgusted, be reminded of the life that grew underneat that destroyed my skin, but created our family.
  

Yeah, I love him like that. Here's to 20 more years, babe. At least.