I don't know if there is a blog etiquette against posting multiple times per day, but if there is... I'm about to break it.  I'm barely able to keep my eyes open at this point, so if everything I write comes across as incoherent, I apologize. Juliet turned three on Tuesday, and today she had her well-child visit. Afterwards we met James for lunch, and then hurried home for a quick nap. We needed to meet James' uncle's fiancee at 3:00; Juliet is the flower girl in their wedding, and it was dress-shopping time. After a brutally short rest, I rousted two very sleepy little chickies and headed to the mall. Where we waited. And waited. And waited. I called L several times. No answer. I called D, who was freaking out just a little that his extremely organized fiancee was nowhere to be found. Then I checked my phone. We are supposed to meet next Thursday. So now we are home. I tried to get the girls back to sleep, but I lost. Now Juliet is eating a bag of stale tortilla chips in the kitchen, and June is entertaining herself on the floor. I don't even care. This might sound ridiculous, but I have to have a nap to function well. I've always envied moms who accomplish things in the afternoon; I'm snoozing right along with my girls. It's not going to happen today, though. And James is working late, because of his long lunch break. I miss him, so I will write about him, and by extension, us.
     We met in 8th grade, when I started attending the private Christian school he had gone to since kindergarten. James claims that I was the prettiest girl in class, and that he developed a crush on me right away. I don't remember meeting him at all. Let's be fair, though. I was meeting lots of new people, and he only had to meet me, and maybe one or two others. Plus, he was very shy and not very confident (This is one of the best reasons for growing up with your spouse. I've seen him develop from a quiet 13-year-old with bad hair to the confident man he is today. With much better hair. On the downside, he definitely witnessed my braces-and-glasses phase).
     Our class was very small, so we spent a lot of time together, but amazingly, I started going out with someone else at the end of 8th grade (Disclaimer: my mom hates it when I call this dating. "You sat together at lunch!"). James claims that he was gearing up the courage to do it that week, but that Boyfriend #1 swooped in first. And no, I was not that hot of a commodity. We just had very few girls in our class. Then, sophomore year, Boyfriend #1 dumped me. Tragedy. The way it went down is hilarious in retrospect, but that's another story.
      Anyways, from January to May I was sadly single. Cue graduation parties. A carload of sophomores driving from house to house eating food, including me, Boyfriend #1, and James. I oh-so-casually dropped the fact that my birthday party, which was on Memorial Day every year and was always a huge family bash, was in two days. Of course, we all know who I was hoping would attend. But the next day James called me and said "I'll be there." And he was. With flowers for both my mother and me, and a handmade card. We had fun; he was grounded for staying too late. He left a few days later on vacation, and he called me every day. At the end of one conversation he said "Bye. I love you." I said "I love you too," more out of reflex than anything else. Then I sat and stared at the phone, thinking "Did I just say that? I don't think I actually love him." Three weeks later, sitting by a lake, he told me that he wanted to marry me. I had been head-over-heels for two weeks by then. We talked about what our children would look like. Three years later he proposed to me at that very spot. That was 10 years ago; we've been married for six. Our wedding was four years to the day that he came to my birthday party.