Five Years

Dear World, You're welcome.

I've discussed before the sordid tale of how I stalked John until he agreed to marry me and let me have his babies, but I think we can all agree that it was an excellent plan.  Five years later, I'm still calling that one a win.

Obviously, John and I are not wild for the normal song and dance of schmoopily expressing our affection on public forums, purchasing each other greeting cards and presenting gifts to each other that are meant to represent our collective five years of marital bliss. Nope.  Instead, John rolled over in bed Saturday morning and elbowed me in the head.

Then he told me he loved me.

That's the real deal, folks.

After recovering from my head injury and realizing I had forgotten to thaw the bacon (the horror!! But seriously, it's imported Hormel Black Label bacon from the states), I announced that we were going out for breakfast--something we haven't done since we moved here.  We got dressed and walked to the Naschmarkt to Caffe del Doge, which is becoming one of my regular haunts. John and I both got the bagel breakfast, which is not at all what an American would expect; it involves a bagel, split in half--one side has fluffy green lettuce, creamed goat cheese and sun dried tomatoes and the other scrambled eggs with pesto and pumpkin seeds--it's eaten with a fork and knife, which can be fairly hilarious if you're a novice.  John and I sawed and savored our bagels while the girls ate their croissants and hard boiled eggs (served in a cup with a tiny silver spoon, of course)...it was a great start to a wonderful day.

We poked about the Naschmarkt and visited our Strudel lady...whom I love because she always gives us at least four extra treats and also the Austrian equivalent of: "Y'all come back now, y'hear?" John picked up a Doener Kebab for lunch and we all snacked away the afternoon at the park before heading home so John and I could get ready for our swanky date that evening.

I feel the urge to poke fun at it, but our date honestly was swanky, meaning we ate somewhere that required reservations, with no children--I wore a dress and makeup, accessories and heels.  It was an entirely foreign feeling, but oh, so wonderful.

John and I dropped the girls off at Steve and Megan's house and rode the U-Bahn together without our kids for the first time...all the way to Schwedenplatz--an area of Vienna near the Donau Canal.  We strolled along the edge of the canal, watching passengers board and depart from the plethora of boats and ferries that line it's banks.  We people-watched and made up stories about Chad, the shirtless frat boy at the sand bar, and Regina, who always wanted to travel, but was thwarted by her luggage-covered-in-saranwrap husband. (if you were curious, he finally gave in for their 40th wedding anniversary, but would not budge on the safety of his rolling suitcase)

Still unwilling to relenquish our fuddy-duddy status, we hit the restaurant at 6pm sharp (many restaurants here don't open for dinner until then) and were one of the first tables seated.  We had excellent service--especially since we clarified that we were English speakers from the get-go. In most areas, I try to afford people the respect of attempting to speak their native language, until through pity they eventually switch to English, but there are some things you just don't mess with; like medical appointments, bank transactions and fine dining (in that order).

We split a bottle of Austrian Riesling and dove into our crusty bread and creamed brown butter--The following two hours were the best food and conversation I've had since we got here.  And even though we thoroughly enjoyed our time spent as adults in grown up la-la land, picking up our girls from a night of friend and pizza-filled fun was almost the best.  The girls were so worn out they both fell asleep on the train ride home.  And the moment that will live in my memory from that night is not the hours I spent having uninterrupted conversation over divine food with my best friend, but the ten minutes we spent walking home from the train in our wilted formal wear with our babies breathing sweet dreamy breaths against our chests.  We put them to bed (something that is usually at least a 20 minute procedure) and felt a deep peace as we tucked them in, watching them nestle into their pillows.

After five years of marriage, this is what I have.

Dear Lord, let my heart be big enough for anything more.