Eight years ago, on December 20th, Josh and I said “I do.”
We spent our first anniversary in Houston, our second in San Antonio, third in England, then everything kind of went to hell with visa issues and delays, so we didn’t get to celebrate number four. Five was a low-key, little-finances-available celebration, and the next two were kept small due to me pregnant and not feeling ‘up to much’.
This year was going to be different.
We’re in the same country, Josh has a great job, we’re financially stable, and I’m not pregnant! We had planned to leave the boys with their cousins, go to the movies, then onto The Cheesecake Factory for dinner and, most importantly, dessert.
Then, two days before, both of the boys fell ill.
They’ve got coughs, runny noses, they occasionally run a low fever, and yet they’re still pretty cheerful. This did mean that we couldn’t, in good conscience, leave them with anyone else. This also meant that our plans were, officially, scuppered.
When Josh got home from work we did drive down to TCF to pick up some cheesecake, but the place was packed, there were no parking spots, and we decided to salvage what time we had left.
We ended the evening in our pajamas, eating Red Robin, ordered via DoorDash, while watching Brooklyn NineNine.
There’s always next year.