Jen's Column / Anniversary

My husband and I celebrated our twelfth anniversary last weekend.

It seems impossible that Jay and I have been married for 12 years. But then I do the math — and remember that I'm now closer to 40 than I am to 20 — and it works.

We met in college. Our "how-we-got-together" story changes depending on who tells it, but we agree our first memorable conversation was at the Park Avenue Laundromat just outside campus in Bemidji, Minn. I was studying Shakespeare; he was studying Chinese. We chatted about our classes and then I went home and told my roommate how cute he was.

A few weeks later, Jay put an ad in the college newspaper: "To Shakespeare's Jen: To be? From China's Worst Nightmare." By the time the edition printed, we'd already been on our first date.

I remember the first time he kissed me. It was after watching a movie at the house I shared with my roommate. Jay kissed me goodbye at the door as he was leaving, and as soon as the screen clicked shut behind him I ran to the living room and jumped up and down on the couch, yelling, "He kissed me! He kissed me!"

Until I realized he could see me from his car as he pulled out of the driveway.

I remember the first meal he made me — a ham-and-potato concoction especially for Easter. It was a cold, clear, night — and when he walked me to my car, we leaned against the hood and watched the northern lights dance above us for almost an hour.

I was crazy about that college boy. I thought he was the kindest, funniest, coolest guy I'd ever met.

Yet I never could've imagined then that we'd someday share two sons. That we'd negotiate 10 p.m. runs to the convenience store so there'd be milk for breakfast. That we'd argue about who's doing what around the house. That I'd actually whisper to him over lunch one day, "Honey, I've reached a new pregnancy low. Hemorrhoids."

It's certainly nothing I'd ever said to past boyfriends.

But somehow, in the last 12 years, Jay's become the person I can be dopey and lazy and ugly around — but who I want to be smart and pretty and fun around, too. He's the person who lets me be me, and I like to think I do the same for him.

We're not always successful. But that's OK. The best advice we ever got was from the pastor who did our premarital counseling. "You're not always going to be madly in love with your husband or wife," he said. "In fact, there may be times you think, 'I don't like you at all.' You just have to wait it out."

And, yes, there've been times when we haven't been each others' biggest fans.

As I'm typing this, in fact, Jay just said to me, "There's hot chocolate all over the counter…," which is code for, "You left hot chocolate mix on the counter when you made the boys their snack even though you know I'm trying to keep the counter clean so we don't get ants and even though you made that snide comment earlier about how you're the only one who keeps the counter clean."

But even through our little ups and downs — and even through the big ones — I know what I've landed here. I have a patient, kind, funny, give-you-the-shirt-off-his-back husband who is loyal to his family, who is a good father, and who has bought me a candy bar for every monthly anniversary since our wedding day 12 years ago. That’s 144 candy bars.

I'm not going anywhere. And if I'm lucky, he's not either.