Scott and I got married May 29, 1999. Eleven years! It doesn’t seem that long when you look at it compared to the eons of time, but we’re been busy. Jobs, different jobs, houses, births, deaths, more weddings, vacations, sickness, and health have all been packed into our married life. I couldn’t have picked a better person to hold my hand through all of it than Scott. I had just planned on holding his hand this weekend on a boat, covered in SPF 200, watching my kids swim in Pickwick Lake.
So if the eleventh anniversary is the traditional “kid with strep throat cancels your lake plans”, we’re there. We were looking forward to spending the long weekend at the lake house. The bags were packed. The car was ready to go. The grandparents were going to babysit while Scott and I had an anniversary date. And Davis woke up with a high fever after a fitful night of sleep. I took him to the pediatrician, because I always feel the fifteen dollar co-pay is worth it just to know what is going on, even if it is a little fever. Turns out that yes, he did have strep throat and that he would need to be away from other kids for a couple of days. Since the Taylor cousins were also going to the lake, I did not want the mass infection of a family with three kids under the age of six on my conscience. Also: I wasn’t looking forward to a four-plus hour car ride with him. Davis is already a card-carrying member of the “men who cannot be sick” club. He has been a beast. I know he doesn’t feel good, but telling me my workout pants are ugly does NOT help his cause. See how quickly you get your Advil and Gatorade now, Tim Gunn.
Last year, Scott and I celebrated our tenth anniversary with style: Caribbean vacation, watches. This year we knew we would scale down about 90%, but neither one of us was looking forward to Burger King and Putt-Putt golf as Plan B. So we scrambled. Bed-and-Breakfasts in a sixty-mile radius: all booked. Nice hotels in Knoxville: Booked. Roach Motels in Knoxville: Booked. Sewanee! We’ll return to the scene of the crime, so to speak. Booked. We stayed up half the night trying to find somewhere to spend our special day to no avail. Burger King, here we come, but wait!! A reservation opened up at a nice downtown hotel. Inexplicably, The Melting Pot had an available spot on Saturday night. We found someone who was actually willing to come spend the night with the kids since Davis is no longer contagious. Anniversary salvaged.
The moral of this story is (if you were looking for one!) that this anniversary has been much like our marriage. You make plans, plans change, and you roll with the punches. It all turns out fine in the end, and the journey is a lot more fun if the person riding shotgun is your best friend. I'll tell the cheese fondue at dinner tonight you all said hi.