For any of you who don’t already know, Steve and I met at band camp. It has been the butt of many jokes over the years, the most famous being – let’s say it all together now – “…and one time, at band camp…” Yes, it is even written in our wedding guest book. And this is just the first in a long line of odd and coincidental events that litter our 19 year relationship.

This year, we reach the year of silverware and/or wood – year 5 of wedded bliss. I kind of wish there were also a corresponding alcohol for each year. Kind of like when you go out for a meal and they offer up a nice wine pairing, “and with the spicy snapper may we suggest the 2000 Navarro Gewürtztraminer,” or more appropriately, “you have done an admirable job of not clobbering each other with croquet mallets during your 5 years of marriage – etiquette dictates that we give you a lovely añejo tequila.” Nothing says ‘I Love You’ like a traditional margarita from Casa Blanca.

Over the last 5 years, we have compiled quite a list of adventures, each of which have given us the opportunity to mine the far reaches of our relationship. They are the kind of life-forming events that allowed us to really see each other in less than perfect situations. Otherwise known as keepin’ it real.

Within weeks of our nuptuals, and in preparation for me quitting my high-paying (but otherwise miserable) job in order to go back to school, we moved out of our bitchin’ house in grown-up land and moved to a new apartment that was juxtaposed between being charming and uninhabitable. [Upside]: Imagine, if you will, a hipster, loft-style apartment with a view of a lush green cow patsture. [Downside]: It was attached to a dwelling that housed a bunch of college guys who never learned NOT to play soccer in the house. This, coupled with the fact that we would, on occasion wake up to the sight of our own breath due to the fact that these same lovely neighbors – who controlled the thermostat – decided that beer was a much better use of their money than, oh say, HEAT! We bucked up as best we could, knowing it was a short-term solution in my quest for higher education. We stumbled up and down a ladder 50 times a day, and did our best to not murder one of our neighbors for “accidentally” stealing my bike. It was amazing that, at no time, did we turn on each other in a fit of rage yelling “We had it so good!!! Who’s stupid idea was this!?!” And so we marched on.

Upon my successful completion of college, we decided we needed to push the relationship envelope a little further. And what better way to do that than to lock yourself into a car with your loved one for a 32-day road trip? Together, we experienced a brief and frightening trip into a Mexican border town, a bug infested, thunderstorming night of camping on the Florida panhandle, camping in a trailer park next to toothless-camp-site-stealing-Labatt’s-drinking-New-Yorkers, a white knuckled climb over the rockies with a near-empty radiator, a stay at a $27 a night hotel in Ely, Nevada called The 4-Sevens, a teeth-grinding drive through a tropical depression in North Carolina and of course, a drunken, two-night stay in the Big Easy. Perhaps it was the fact that Steve drove for every single mile of that trip, or that he was completely unfazed when I panicked in realizing there was a LINE TO GET BACK INTO THE UNITED STATES FROM MEXICO, or that he made sure we always had a room or a campsite booked BEFORE we got to our destination — whatever the case, we made it to the end with smiles on our faces.

We made it through the – gulp! – home purchase, and even through the – double gulp! – remodel. This is probably where one would start to see the early signs of financial stress on the relationship. I don’t know if it is to our ability to have snobbish tastes, or our need to feel like we can’t do what everyone else is doing, but each and every time we would come to the “can we afford it?” crossroads, we would invevitably end up convincing ourselves we could. I think the word I am searching for right now is ENABLER. And so, through mortgage payments and floor refinishing and concrete countertops and making coffee EVERY SINGLE MORNING on a campstove in the back yard…during the rainy season, we managed to make it through again.

And then came the mother of all relationship moments: procreation. Flash back to the baffled look on both of our faces upon realizing – “We are pregnant. Holy crap, do you realize how huge this is?” And as it turns out, it has, indeed, been very huge. (See: this entire website.)

So, here we are at year 5. Why does it work? I don’t know. But I do know this. I have a nerdy, cute, borderline OCD husband who puts up with my opinionated, loud-mouthed self, who takes care of all the stuff I won’t, who cooks & cleans (without complaint), who is spontaneous and social, and absolutely ROCKS as a dad. And most importantly, a man who I can’t imagine my life without.