For our third anniversary, I could write you a mushy letter describing all the things I love about you and my favorite memories from the last 1096 days, but instead, I want to say sorry for these things:
1. The hair.
When you woke up exactly three years ago today knowing you were going to marry me, you may have had a picture in your mind of what life with me would look like. It didn’t include strands of brown (some gray) hairs everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I remember the first time you combed my hair off the carpet. So gross. I should’ve been embarrassed, but instead, it was slightly entertaining. I imagine you probably think I stand in the middle of floor, pulling at loose strands, then turn on the fan and let it fly wild, but I swear…it distributes itself. And guess what? My hair is only growing, and I’m only going to have more babies. So I’m sorry…but it’s just getting worse.
2. Expecting you to be my “girlfriend.”
When you asked my dad for his “blessing” to marry me, I was so annoyed when he told you that I’d expect you to be my girlfriend. What?! I knew better than that. And I understood men 100%. I wouldn’t try to make you talk to me about feelings or tell me which shirt looks better on me or ask if a certain dress makes me look fat. I wouldn’t ask you if my makeup is spread in or if you could tell my eyebrows needed plucked. I mean, I had every intention not to do those things…Turns out my dad was right. So, sorry for all the times I’ve made you talk about feelings and my waist and whether my hair looks better up or down. And I’m kinda sorry about making you watch The Bachelorette with me, but in another way, I think you should thank me for introducing you to a new level of entertainment.
3. Making the kid wake you up.
One of my favorite things about having a kid is I can use her as an excuse for almost anything. Don’t want to watch that football game? Oh, I loooove football, but I need to go home because the kid needs to go to bed. Don’t want to go to that overrated restaurant that serves rubbery meat and dry rolls? Oh, Haven hasn’t been doing so well at restaurants, so it’d probably be best if we stayed behind.
Confession: one of my favorite ways to use her is to have her wake you up. The only thing worse than not being able to sleep in is to have to hang out by myself while everyone else sleeps in. It can be a lonely few hours. I try not to be blatant about it, and if I’m feeling particularly kind, I’ll make sure she doesn’t barge into our room and slam the door into the wall. But I can’t say I mind that her little high pitched voice carries across the whole house or that she decides to come visit you while I’m whisking eggs or washing bacon germs off my hands. The truth is, I just like it when you’re around, but it feels a little too mean to just wake you up myself. But as I’m writing this, I realize it’s kinda mean that I let her wake you up too…I’m sorry.
4. I lose/misplace/forget things…like keys.
When we were first dating, I locked my keys in my car three times in two weeks. Three times. That was expensive. I feel like maybe that was heaven’s way of warning you of the life that was to come or else to run fast. I swear I use precautions to keep these kind of things from happening, but I think that maybe the part of my brain that is supposed to help me with this kind of thing just isn’t fully developed or was damaged when I ran into another girl in 5th grade gym class and blacked out.
5. For the clothes (and other junk) on the floor that make you trip.
Old habits die hard. I absolutely know it’s annoying that my stuff is blocking the pathway to the bathroom, but when I’m ready to climb into bed at night, that’s the last thing I’m thinking of. I know it would be easy to fold my pants and put them away, but I’ve spent my entire life just tossing them on the floor when I’m ready for bed. I am sorry though.
6. The disaster in the kitchen every time I cook
Before you married me, you probably had no idea that cooking a breakfast of strawberry crepes, bacon, and scrambled eggs would make our kitchen look like a war zone. My roommates told me I was a messy cook, but I have no idea how you can not be a messy cook. How do you avoid getting flour in every crevice of the counter? How do you keep chopped veggies from falling into drawers or unseen places on the floor? Sorry for this…I’ll Google some tips.
7. I don’t like sports.
This, like the hair, will never change, but I’m still sorry for it. I bet it would be cool for you to have a wife who wore team jerseys and yelled at the TV when refs made bad calls, but alas, that will never be me. Thinking of sitting down to watch a football game probably sounds as exciting to me as reading Pride and Prejudice would be for you. Even the idea of it makes me cringe with boredom.
Thanks for putting up with me anyway and for pretending that the only thing that bugs you is the hair. I’m sure that can’t be it, but I love you for claiming it is.
Your loving wife,