Three years ago today, I had the third date with the man who would become my husband.
Two years ago today, we got married.
One year ago today, I showed him a positive pregnancy test.
I remember a lot of other fourth of Julys. I remember playing with sparklers on our deck in Kansas, I remember watching fireworks from the top of a tall building in Kansas, I remember Uncle Jack setting off his own fireworks, I remember one with fireflies at Aunt Mary’s, I remember one when relatives came to us and I had noisemakers, I remember seeing fireworks at summer camp, I remember my dad setting off novelties in the cul-de-sac in front of our house, I remember one that happened on Movie Night in college, I remember the cookout with my college buddies, I remember driving to my Aunt Fran’s for one, I remember going to the tops of parking garages on campus for a good view of fireworks, I remember listening to fireworks in Copenhagen (biggest Independence Day celebration outside the US, I guess). I remember a lot of Fourth of Julys.
For this one, I’m hanging out with my husband and daughter and in-laws. We’re having friends over for a cookout this evening. We saw fireworks last night (by the way, I tried to watch them while lying down and almost fell asleep during the show. New parent-hood is a cruel mistress.)
I made some tissue paper pom-poms to hang from the ceiling, and now wonder if, given the number of occasions on which I plan to hang stuff above this doorway in the future, it wouldn’t be a good idea to install a curtain rod instead of putting holes all over.
The Not-Perfect dining table is covered with notebook computers, cut flowers, baby toys and party decorations.
Has anyone thought about Pudding since March 15? She’s still here, she just doesn’t get as many photo ops as she used to. Poor Puddy tat.