Sure, I fell in love with Francie the moment I met her on March 19. But I fell in even deeper love that day too. With my husband.
With our marriage, as with all relationships, ebbs and flows, and I'm sure there will come a time in our lives that challenges us in a way that we might forget what this is really all about. And I want to remember, even if I have to read about it here on this blog, just how deliriously in love I have been and am with Alex.
I first met him in May 2006. I was passing through Tahoe on my way from Colorado to Southern California. I stopped by a gas station in what I now know to be Kings Beach on Tahoe's north shore, and asked, "Soooo, where's Tahoe?" The attendant chuckled, and pointed at the lake. He then directed me to explore Tahoe City. I parked my busted-ass grey Volvo (the indestructable beast I am STILL driving) in the lot of "The Tahoe World," which I presumed to be a restaurant. I quickly discovered that it was the local newspaper office, and strolled in wearing my grungy blue pants and a white wife-beater to inquire about staffing. I had been interested in pursuing a job in "publishing" or "journalism" after all.
I briefly met the three local reporters, and remember chatting about Oregon with the red-bearded soccer player, who also grew up in Portland.
Flash forward almost two months, and I found myself sitting next to that same red-bearded guy in that very same office. We became friends, occasionally eating lunch together. We joked around, he made me laugh, and I divulged too much personal information. I still didn't have a crush on him, but I found myself wanting to spend more and more time with this co-worker of mine. When the guy I was casually dating dumped me, I called my dad, crying because of my bruised ego, worried about the fate of my love life. "I don't want to be dumped," I whined. "I just know I'm going to end up with that guy from work, and I'm not even sure I like him." There was something inside me, something that told me that I might very well marry that guy from work. Not that this necessarily made any sense, given that we weren't even dating.
In August 2006 I convinced Alex to go on a last-minute camping trip with me, to Pinecrest Lake, a place I had spent a week each summer as a little kid. We weren't able to leave until after midnight, when I was finished working my shift as a cocktail waitress at a tapas restaurant. The drive was long and dark, and in the middle of one of the downhill switchbacks on the treacherous mountain road, the brakes on my Volvo went out. I was cool as a cucumber, pulling the emergency brake, casually commenting, "Shit, I think my brakes just went out. Again. Guess we'll have to sleep here for the night!"
We slept in the back of the Volvo, his dog Nesta snuggled between us at our feet. Still, we had never touched. I hoped he would kiss me that night. But at the same time I was scared he might kiss me. We worked together, after all. That could get messy.
And as the story goes, we did indeed get together that summer, just a few weeks after that fateful camping trip. Nearly 6 years later, we are married, own a home, and are new parents to a wonderful baby girl. There were many adventures along the way, both good and bad, that I imagine will help us to be better partners to each other and better parents to the Bean.
I briefly met the three local reporters, and remember chatting about Oregon with the red-bearded soccer player, who also grew up in Portland.
Flash forward almost two months, and I found myself sitting next to that same red-bearded guy in that very same office. We became friends, occasionally eating lunch together. We joked around, he made me laugh, and I divulged too much personal information. I still didn't have a crush on him, but I found myself wanting to spend more and more time with this co-worker of mine. When the guy I was casually dating dumped me, I called my dad, crying because of my bruised ego, worried about the fate of my love life. "I don't want to be dumped," I whined. "I just know I'm going to end up with that guy from work, and I'm not even sure I like him." There was something inside me, something that told me that I might very well marry that guy from work. Not that this necessarily made any sense, given that we weren't even dating.
In August 2006 I convinced Alex to go on a last-minute camping trip with me, to Pinecrest Lake, a place I had spent a week each summer as a little kid. We weren't able to leave until after midnight, when I was finished working my shift as a cocktail waitress at a tapas restaurant. The drive was long and dark, and in the middle of one of the downhill switchbacks on the treacherous mountain road, the brakes on my Volvo went out. I was cool as a cucumber, pulling the emergency brake, casually commenting, "Shit, I think my brakes just went out. Again. Guess we'll have to sleep here for the night!"
We slept in the back of the Volvo, his dog Nesta snuggled between us at our feet. Still, we had never touched. I hoped he would kiss me that night. But at the same time I was scared he might kiss me. We worked together, after all. That could get messy.
And as the story goes, we did indeed get together that summer, just a few weeks after that fateful camping trip. Nearly 6 years later, we are married, own a home, and are new parents to a wonderful baby girl. There were many adventures along the way, both good and bad, that I imagine will help us to be better partners to each other and better parents to the Bean.
So Francie, I want you to know and understand, the reason you are here today is as a product of your mama and daddy's love for each other. Our "love child," we joke. We adore you and are so looking forward to watching you grow. But it's equally, if not more important, that we continue to water each other's heart gardens in order to maintain the solid foundation of this family.
And to Alex: I love you, Penguin, and am excited to see you take on this new role of Daddy. xoxo
And to Alex: I love you, Penguin, and am excited to see you take on this new role of Daddy. xoxo
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