Happy Five Years to Me! (and my husband, I guess)

Yay!  Today is our 5-year wedding anniversary!

To everyone who said it wouldn't last - I know we haven't hit the silver or gold years yet, but you were wrong.

To everyone who assumed we were only getting married because I was knocked up - our first born is still residing in my uterus, and you were wrong.

I attribute our marital success thus far to three things:

1) Marriage therapy.  Oh yes, we so went there.  The ink wasn't even dry on the marriage license before we realized, "What the heck have we done?!?!" Neither of us are the abandon ship type (obviously, have you seen the boats we've bought?), so therapy seemed like a good idea.  It was the only idea if we didn't want to spend time in prison for murder.  We went alone one week and together the next week for about six months.  We were forced to learn how to communicate.  For as many words that come out of my mouth, you'd think Michael would have heard SOME of them.  Apparently, I was saying too many.   I don't really know what his problem was.  He fixed it, though, because I like him again.

2) He likes my cooking.  And he knows where the Hungry House and Ankar's Hoagies are if I tell him I don't want to cook.

3)  We are quite possible the most disgusting people on the planet.  We talk about pooping and farting.  Often.  Daily.  Multiple times a day, even.  I'm not embarrassed to talk to him about anything, like massive butt zits.  He thought it was funny to pee on me when I was taking a shower, and I didn't whack him.  Are you grossed out?  Well, that's why we married each other and not you.

Michael, if the first five years are any indication of how awesome the next 50 are going to be, I'm more excited than Elvira is when she sees a rabbit.  Thank you for being my best friend.  I love you. :)