It's not perfect, but it's ours

So we've arrived at another anniversary.  Yes, Casey and I have been married for four years.

On a totally unrelated note, my grandparents are also in town, and remarked,

"Can you believe we were here three years ago for a wedding, and now they have two kids?"

Cringe.  A definite drawback to eloping without telling everyone: Math doesn't work out properly when you don't know about that whole first year thing. 

We're just over the five week post-partum mark.  When you have an anniversary five weeks postpartum, you're guaranteed it's going to be an uneventful one.  The only person entitled to any part of my anatomy is Logan, because - let's face it - he's kind of dependant on it.

Added to that is the fact that Casey left today for Philadelphia and I'm feeling downright blue.  My romantic evening included a two and a half year old who didn't nap and a baby who wanted to nurse every 20 minutes and wasn't terribly pleased when I couldn't let him.

Maybe I can Macgyver together some sort of contraption out of a towel and three toothpicks that will allow me to nurse the baby while making Leah dinner...

Although I'm not exactly in a place to write some long, sappy love post, I do confess to loving that man.  I'm pretty lucky to be married to someone who is genuinely good, hardworking and smitten with his family. 

There is no skywriting.  No expensive jewelery.  No candelight dinner.

Just two people who will always, always come back tomorrow, regardless of what that day held. 
And that, friends, is true love.

Happy anniversary to the best man I know.