So last year, just prior to our wedding, I blogged about some wedding vows that didn’t make the cut. Now a year (and two months! CB’s counting.) later I feel like I need to expand upon those because lately I feel like maybe you should have to revisit your vows about every 6 months or so. Keeps you both honest, reminds you about all of the love and romance and open bar, and pushes you to continue to grow, learn, and not mind-murder one another when you have a four month old and haven’t slept through the night in we can’t remember how long.
So here goes:
I promise to try and remember not to remind you about how you vowed on our wedding day that you wouldn’t leave your dishes on the counter when the dishwasher is dirty and you could just put them in there instead. I realize I bring it up, on average, every time you do it. But to be fair, you did make a vow in front of God and everyone and so I’m basically helping you stay true to your word. You’re welcome. And also, I promise that the next vow will be less about how you’re doing something you promised you wouldn’t do.
I promise to try and remember to ask you whatever favor I need to ask you prior to you sitting down after being up and doing stuff. I promise that when I say “I’ll pay you a million dollars if you get me a glass of water,” that I’ll do it three seconds before – and not three seconds after – you sit down to watch the game. Because I know you’ll get back up and do it, but I’d prefer that you do my favors without huffing and puffing about how I could’ve asked you twenty seconds prior to that when you were filling up your own water glass. Jeez.
I promise that I’ll try not to take any more pictures of you napping on the floor of our daughter’s room after being over-served at a bachelor party the night before. I don’t, however, promise not to want to do that and also send the pictures to my parents and friends. Not that I’ve done that in the past or anything. I’m just trying to think ahead to what might potentially happen if you were ever to do that.
I promise not to always yell “not it!” when our daughter craps her pants. To be fair, I hope this happens less as the years go on. But in the meantime, it happens pretty much always, and I pretty much always smell it as soon as she deals it out because you have a deviated septum and can’t smell stuff. And that’s patently unfair. And maybe bad parenting? Definitely bad wifeing, of that I’m sure.
I promise not to get offended and make you talk about it for thirty more minutes when you pay me a compliment that sounds kind of like you were insulting past-Becky. Like when I referred to myself as a sow when I was pregnant, assuming you’d be like “you were always so beautiful as a pregnant person with swollen everything.” And instead you said that I don’t look like a sow at all now.
I promise to try and notice more when you’ve shaved and/or grown facial hair and/or gotten a haircut. I realize that it probably looks bad when Beth comments on your four day beard and then I’m like “Oh! Hey! You have a beard!” Also, I realize that the other day when I said “Did you get a haircut?” and you hadn’t, and then I asked you if you shaved your neck hairs because something looked different, that I probably should’ve just said that you looked handsome. Because then you reminded me how I never notice anything about your appearance. To which I told you that it’s because I’m blinded by love. To which you told me that that’s not actually a great answer because I was sort of implying that I don’t even look at you and/or you look bad but I don’t notice. To which I responded that you were being a sensitive lady. To which I think you walked away? I can’t remember. Scandal was on.
I promise to be more selfless like you are. Yeah, this one isn’t funny or sarcastic. I just think it’d be nice if I were more like you in that way because it’s nice and you skootch over on the couch and let me sleep for nights on end so I can get over my cold and you stay up late and get up early with our daughter and she smiles at you all lovingly and it’s because you’re you and she loves you. And so you’re great. Except when you leave your dishes on the counter when the dishwasher is dirty. Even our adorable daughter can’t save you then, buddy.
Happy one year and almost two months anniversary! And Happy Wednesday, everyone! (editor’s note: I’ll be out of town at a good friend’s wedding this weekend and not Friday Wrapping Up – but there are some new books on the book blog, so check it out! And I’ll be back next week, so don’t fear.)