one year on

 'Twas our first wedding anniversary yesterday.

It feels like we've lived a lifetime in one year, even though our actual wedding day feels like yesterday.

(Never thought we'd have a one month old on our first anniversary, that's for sure!)

I totally messed up as well. I blame sleep deprivation, but basically the Brit had beautiful flowers delivered to the house in the morning and carefully wrote me a beautiful note that he'd clearly given some thought about (something I usually do - I'm a 'love letter' kinda gal), as well as organised a reservation at Gordon Ramsay's London House restaurant.

Me? Well I spent one morning missioning to Oliver Bonas with Sebastian in the buggy, to pick up a card and a....bread board for my Brit.
He's been wanting a big fuck off bamboo-wooden chopping board for ages, and while we said we wouldn't get each other anything for this anniversary, I thought I'd at least get him a chopping board.

It is, after all, the world's most romantic of gifts.

Oliver Bonas had a chopping board of sorts - in a heart shape too. Bonus. Bonas.

Except it was really small and not really a chopping board, more like a charcuterie board. Or something you serve cheese on. Basically, it was a piece of wood. Shaped like a heart.
I was half comatose, OK. But even that's not an excuse - I really should've just ordered him the perfunctory euphemistically rectangular chopping board that he really fucken wants.*

Then, I got him a card. I saw one that was shaped like a dog. It was an origami dog. Cut out to shape and kind of like a pop-up book. "It's our paper anniversary," I thought. "This would symbolise the paper in an awesomely un-ironic way."

Unfortunately, as lovely and jolly the dog was, it only really had a 1 centimetre x 1 centimetre area on which to write something. Now, unless you're e.e. cummings and have had at least 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep once in the last 3 months, so therefore your brain hasn't completely retarded itself,  you could probably bash out something small, yet deeply profound, in that small space.

 The dog of shame.

I, however haven't had more than 3 hours of sleep without being awoken in the last 3 months (by bladder or child), and apparently I am not e.e.cummings.

I also write with capital letters, so I'm definitely not as cool as e.e.cummings was. Goes without saying that my surname doesn't resemble the metaphorical equivalent of ejaculate either. But that's neither here nor there.

So I wrote a really boring happy anniversary note to my betrothed, which was probably the biggest mistake of all.
The Brit has got used to my love letters it turns out, and after presenting him with the offending dog card, expected to have a note that was longer than four words.
Frankly, if our roles were reversed, I would've expected the same. And I probably would've thrown a complete tantrum.
He didn't, but was visibly disappointed, which made me cry and then he cried. Not a great way to start our anniversary, and all because my stupid brain failed to do it's only and primary function. Think.

I could've put an additional note with the dog. And yet that practical idea failed me too.

Anyway. He got over it - luckily he is a boy and boys don't tend to mull on these things like I would've girls do.

It was surreal leaving Sebastian with my mother and a bottle of freshly pumped breast milk, getting into a taxi, wearing high heeled boots (I mean, shut that shit down - it's been months and months and months), putting actual makeup on and going to an actual restaurant where I drank two glasses of actual alcohol. (Champagne. God it was amazing.)

People were dining all around us. Walking on the streets. Riding bikes. Driving cars. Ordering the lamb shank. Talking about their weekends and whether they should by timeshare in Devon.

The world is still out there. It's still turning on its axis and life continues.

Yes, you say. Obviously. Where have you been?

Well that's just it. In a baby bubble. Mostly at home. Offering my baby a boob every 3 hours. Watching lots of terrible daytime telly. Pretending to shop on the internet for clothes that don't fit me. Hanging out with my mum for is my salvation at the moment. (Granny nanny who even makes me meals because I have no time to.)

It was a complete mind fuck to emerge into an old world I knew. A world of fine dining, drinking champagne with my handsome husband, reminiscing about our wedding day. And then thinking about what has happened. Being pregnant with twins for 8 months. Losing Molly. Gaining Sebastian. Me being out of the office and corporate life for two months already. Having bought and renovated a flat.

A lot has happened. And I thank God I have had a husband to share it with.

I just hope he realises how much I appreciate him, even if I didn't manage to put it on paper this time.

This was us, a lifetime ago. As the Brit says, "Definitely the best wedding I've ever been to. That's for sure."
I wish we could do it again someday.

In fact. There's an idea. I'll do that right now.