9 years.

Today Tad and I have been married for nine years.  Our marriage is just old enough to ride its bike around the block on its own.  (Well, that's what we're letting Coen do lately and he's the barometer for the age of our marriage--unless Marriages age in dog years or something, but I don't think so. I think they take their sweet time, like humans do.)

We had a rough night sleep last night, Tad coming home hot and worn out from the Brewer game, me having spent the night doing laundry, dishes, and getting the kids settled (both of them having trouble falling to sleep), only to sit down on the couch, maybe an hour before Tad came home.  We fell asleep rather fitfully and awoke only an hour later to the neighbors returning home.  And then back to sleep again and awake another two hours later to Coen wide awake and wanting to chat.  We got up at our 6:15 alarm, both of us quiet and got our household up and running.

At breakfast Tad came over and kissed me on the head, saying "Happy Anniversary."
"What's an anniverary?" Lucy asked.
Tad told her about our wedding day and Coen got up to look at the framed photo we have on our china cabinet. 

As we were getting ready to leave, I stood up and banged my head on our kitchen cupboard, right on the corner. I screamed in pain and I know it scared the kids, but it hurt.  And immediately I felt a goose egg rising on my skull and the force of the impact even drew blood.  Tad got the kids out to the car while I got an ice pack for myself and they worriedly asked me if I was okay once I got out to the car. 

After they went in to the school building, I put my throbbing head on the steering wheel and cried until my sunglasses were foggy. 

Not such a great start to an anniversary day. But you know, it's just a day. And lucky for me, Tad and I try to make each other feel romanced and loved and wanted on many many of the other 365 days of the year. 

I'll try not to bonk my head on those other days either.