Run With The Fishes

Greg and I had been trying to decide if we were going to get married before or after Nathan was born. We knew were were going to stay together and when we were going to get married wasn’t that big a deal to us. If we waited until after the baby was born, I wouldn’t be hugely pregnant in the pictures (a little vain, yes) and we could have a grand ole time. In the end, while I was filling out paperwork for insurance and the hospital, I found out that it would be more tedious and costly for Nathan to have Greg’s last name if we weren’t married. So, being the practical (cheap) people we are, we each said, “Do you want to?” and “Sure”, to eachother. Romantic, I know.

Our wedding was very spur of the moment. We visited the courthouse, got our paperwork, and went to see the judge on Friday afternoon. She seemed to me as a petite, classy little old lady. She asked if we really knew what we were getting ourselves into. She called in her secretary and the district attorney as witnesses. Then proceeded to tell us about all of the “whore stories, where the girls and young men just come in and get married because it seems like a fun idea, only to end in heartbreak and tragedy a week or even a year later”. I pretty much didn’t pay attention to the rest of the ceremony. All I kept thinking was that this sweet little old lady judge just called me a whore. Sure, I was at the stage where it looked like I had swallowed a basketball but still, wow! The whole thing took about 10 minutes and we were married. It was after we were walking back to the car that Greg and I figured out she was talking about the “horror stories”.

Happy anniversary love, I’m glad we haven’t been one of those stories.