Six.

It was our anniversary yesterday. Six years since vowing to laugh at his jokes and make his favorite brownies as we watched the sunset behind us. And now we can finally say that we've been married for as long as we were together before marriage. And in very stereotypical married-with-kids fashion, we had no sitter and did essentially nothing to commemorate the occasion. It was our most uneventful anniversary yet, but fairly understandable. It was raining, I felt terrible, and we was Munchkin nipping on our heels too. However, after my meltdown and general down day Saturday, Justin--after spending the day RE-painting the baby's room--told me that he was going to stay home from work Sunday. I told him that it wasn't a big deal, our anniversary, and that it wouldn't kill me if we didn't do anything to celebrate. To which he said, "well, maybe it will kill me."

And that made me cry. Again. Har.

I spent yesterday thanking my lucky stars for my partner in this life. He has stood by my complete and total lunacy (see previous post on donuts) and handled the messiest of situations with grace. He is not a perfect person, but he is perfect for me, in about a million ways.

This past year of our marriage has been about all the "or" scenarios that traditional vows offer. . . in sickness, for poorer, in bad times.  .  , but we're still here and standing tall . . . enough anyway. So here's to a new  year of recovery and arriving at our happiness by this time next year.