I was around 15 when we met. He was 23.

I was 20 when we started dating. He was 28.

I was 22 when we got married. He was 30.

And a trio of kids later,

he’s on his way to 45

and I’m heading towards the ripe ole' age of 37.

And we, well,

WE

ARE

LIVING

THE

DREAM.

Not everyone's though.

Not everyone dreams of a

loud,
kid-packed,
cluttered,
loved-well home.

Not everyone dreams of

rushed mornings,
busy days,
and long nights.

Not everyone dreams of

messy rooms,
stories with no ending (or point),
and homework battles.

Not everyone dreams of

weekends at soccer
and hockey,
and baseball,
and acting performances.

Not everyone dreams of

constantly being “on,”
being looked to as a role model,
and having a ‘parent bod ’ as opposed to one like a real model.

Not everyone dreams of a life voyage that

runs the bank account dry,
having to captain a wobbly ship through everyday storms
or dealing with a pint-sized crew whose many attempts at a takeover fail and so, naturally, they whine about it.

Not everyone dreams of

being called for in the middle of the night,
tending to bruises — the physical kind and the emotional ones,
and being touched
or beckoned
or needed
almost every minute of the waking day.

Not everyone dreams of

wet kisses,
lingering hugs,
eyerolls,
and bedtimes that take what feels like forever.

BUT I DO.

AND HE DOES TOO.