Annivirusy

While I mentally prepared myself for the arrival of Mary, I planned for sleepless nights and fussy days; I calculated the approximate number of hours dedicated to eating and pooping; I said goodbye to my skinny jeans and hello to a whole new world of underwear; I failed to prepare for one thing. That is, the plethora of viruses and bacteria that would be entering my house, through the cutest little carrier of course. And I forgot to plan for death by day-care born disease becoming Mommy. And Daddy.

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The other day, my mother-in-law asked me what a second anniversary was associated with. Like the first was paper ... what is the second? I had no clue and told her I would get back to her once I figured it out myself.

On Friday, around 2:30 PM, I got the answer. Our second anniversary, was that of the Rotavirus. It would be our annivirusy to put a pithy spin on it. And no amount of cotton balls could swab up the mess that was about to ensue.

Our big Labor Day weekend plans - a weekend we've always done so well: from first dates, to our engagement, to our wedding - were sidelined, just like Johnny Football, for a weekend of house arrest, alternating naps, and a very intense, highly discouraged cleansing diet called attack of the Rotavirus.  

I've got to say though, you don't know true love until you've been through it all together; through the noises and smells, aches and the pains, moans and groans. And you don't know true romance until you can cuddle up next to your partner in pestilence and ask, 'it is over yet?'

While we will likely be having yet another slice of toast with peanut butter for our celebratory dinner tonight, the true champion of our second anniversary, is our little carrier. Who beat the bug with one awesome immunization and all weekend long, landed on top.

Happy anniversary to the love of my life, who I will always love in sickness and in health.

Lo.