Our first year of marriage was spent in a hospital room/hotel room in Washington D.C. where we only had each other. We had to completely depend on each other, because nobody else was there. We spent every waking second together, we spent every sleeping second together, and there was never a moment that the Rice's weren't shoulder to shoulder. Except bathroom breaks. That would be weird. But it was wonderful, and I would recommend all couple's first year of marriage to be spent this way, sans the leg being blown off. It was the most perfect and beautiful way to spend year number one.
Anyway, five years later, even though not quite as extreme as our D.C. days, not too much has changed. I don't know if it's the fact that we might be losers and not have a lot of other options, but we spend a lot of time together just because we want to. We go on dates a lot. We have very stupid inside jokes that make us look like flarts around other people, but we don't really care. We eat 98% of all our meals together. We make fun of each other a lot. We enjoy each other, and I'm glad that time hasn't changed that. This is why I still feel newlywedish.
Five years has also brought with it time to really learn about each other. Obviously (and hopefully) you don't ever stop learning about your mate. But at some point over the years, I knew I didn't have to try my hardest to impress him, because for some reason I'll never really understand, he was already impressed. I could be Kelly, he could be Aaron, and Kelly accepts Aaron and Aaron accepts Kelly. We both have flaws. Big flaws. But we work on them together. We have to ask each other for forgiveness often.
Also, we are pretty ding dang comfortable around each other. Aaron quit holding his flarts in a long time ago. I burp a lot around him. He's accepted the fact that I wear t-shirts and scrub pants a lot. I've accepted the fact that he only wears blue boxers. He is possibly the biggest sloppy Joe on the planet and everywhere he goes he leaves a trail of trash behind him. He cusses when he irons because he gets so frustrated. He knows I tend to give the silent treatment when I'm upset and he knows how to make me speak up so we can communicate better. He doesn't care that our bathroom counter is completely covered with my stuff and all he has room for is his toothbrush. He doesn't care that my side of the closet is a train wreck and he has to step over mountains of shoes to get to his clothes. Getting upset with each other is different now because we know how each other responds to conflict. In the past month or so since my belly has gotten too big for me to function effectively, he spends at least 20 minutes every single night helping me get ready for bed. He positions about 40 pillows around me so I can sleep comfortably, gets me water so I can take my prenatals, turns off all the lights, gets whatever book I'm reading at the time, sets my alarm, and knows I'll already be asleep long before he even finishes everything. These are a few of the reasons I feel like we might be old flarts, which is why I believe we have the best of both worlds.
Here is a quick recap of our five year anniversary date. I got home from work and took a nap so I could have the strength and energy to stay up late. We got dressed up (for the second time all year) and went out to eat. Unfortunately, our anniversary fell on the eve of the Ole Miss v. LSU football game, which means Oxford was maxed out with overzealous football fans that feel the need to wear their school colors and curse you for not doing the same. Downtown Oxford was a hot mess. We found the only restaurant on the square that would seat people who didn't have a reservation. We ended up sitting at the bar and having a fabulous meal. My back started throbbing, as it usually does around that time of night, so I was squirming around trying to find a comfortable position and looking awkward to everybody at the bar, but whatever. I'm 34 weeks pregnant (or maybe 35 by now? I've lost count). Aaron ate every morsel of food on his plate and 3/4 of the food on my plate, and as a result became VERY gassy throughout the rest of the evening.
After dinner we went to see New Moon. I felt like a phony standing in line because I never bought into the whole "Twilight Movement," which means I never made a personal connection with the characters, read the books, bought the lunch box or sleeping bag, or chose to be on Team Edward or Team Jacob. I just enjoyed the first movie. It was interesting and entertaining. There was a very long line of people who bought their tickets weeks in advance and were waiting to be allowed into the lobby - not the actual theater, but just the lobby. Aaron, being the sweet and attentive guy he is, noticed I was holding my back and looking quite miserable, asked the theater manager if we could go ahead and be "allowed" into the lobby so I could sit down. At first I protested, trying to say I'm ok just standing, but those chairs really did look delicious and plush. So we sat down on nice furniture while everybody else stood for about an hour. Once everybody was allowed into the lobby, we had to form another line outside the theater and wait. And finally, when given the thumbs up, we proceeded like stampede into the theater to find the perfect seats and wait for another 30 minutes for the previews. Was it worth it? Eh, I don't know. The movie was good. Backache was miserable. I was ready for my epidural right then and there. I feel sorry for the poor guy sitting next to me because I was sitting in very strange positions trying to relieve the pressure of my back. At one point that included me lifting my belly up, and I'm sure that looked odd. But whatever.
The movie started at 10:15 and I stayed awake through the entire thing. This was quite a feat, as I haven't seen that late of an hour in months. We came home and Aaron spent 20 minutes getting me ready for bed. And the best part of our five year anniversary was the fact that I slept until 12:02 the next day. I never woke up - except the 10 times throughout the night to use the restroom. I haven't slept this late...ever. Well, not ever, but in a really long time. And I have a feeling opportunities like that will be few and far between, given that in a few short weeks there will be a Baby Clark in the mix.
Speaking of Clark, I'll know more next week, but I'm pretty sure his due date of January 1, 2010 has been nixed. When I went in for my last sonogram, he weighed in at roughly five pounds and 15 ounces. Let's just go ahead and say six pounds. A six pound baby at 34 weeks means a 12 pound baby at 40 weeks, and I would like for that not to be the case for obvious reasons. The nurse said the way he was measuring meant a due date to be on or around December 20. That's great news to Kelly Rice for many reasons, the main one being that is about 11 less days without throbbing back pain and I will lift my sparkling grape juice glass to that.
So now that Aaron and I have been married for five years and one day, we are going to spend this Saturday being complete turds. I doubt we are going to take showers. I'm debating whether or not to brush my teeth - leaning towards not. Get out of my scrubs and tshirt and put on normal clothes? Absolutely not! I'm sure we'll take Jake for a walk, scrounge up whatever food we can to fill our bellies, and if I have it my way, we will definitely watch our wedding video, stinky breath and all.