I keep secrets from Dane. You can’t really judge…. because I can almost guarantee you one of mine is also one of yours. Or similar. Here are mine.
1). When I was 9 months pregnant we went out to State and Main for supper. As soon as we finished eating (it was late because it was dark out, thank GOODNESS), I felt sick to my stomach. I had beads of sweat on my forehead, I felt all clammy, lightheaded, and just needed to get out of there. We were crossing the parking lot to the truck when I just knew I was about to puke. And I did. Man did I ever. I went to the back of the truck and puked my brains out into a shrub. Like full on chunky barf. So I’m 9 months pregnant, and spewing my insides out and I may or may not have been bearing down fairly significantly. And there may or may not have been a few noises that came out the other end. So I finish almost dying and get in the truck where Dane is patiently waiting for his 9 month preggo wife finish barfing. He looks over at me and goes “Um… were you like farting really loud?” I already felt embarrassed enough. Like a baby whale barfing isn’t enough of a sight to see already. So I did what any normal wife would do. I lied. I said no. So the best part is that he actually says “What? I thought you were cuz I could hear super loud fart noises. Hmmm. Must have been my truck.” Um.. my husband has just compared my farts to a truck. Awesome. Thanks sweets. Nope, just your run of the mill 9 month preggo wife puking her brains out all while farting.
2). I get jealous of how he knows what Olive is saying. She’s constantly chattering away in the back seat while we’re driving and she’ll go “sjdhcjabdsjkkhs?!” And Dane just instantly says “Oh, no Olive. We didn’t bring your protein bar and green juice.” Or she’ll scream “jdywncsdkjhcdcsljduto!!!!!!” And he’ll laugh and say ” Oh Olive! That was such a good knock knock joke!” And they’ll giggle together. OK, OBVIOUSLY I’m lying about what they’re saying, but he magically just knows what her gibberish is. It’s like he knows the Olivean dialect. And I feel left out. And I feel slightly jealous.
3). On a few occasions, I have been known to hide a McDonald’s bag inside a grocery bag and throw it in the garbage. And then I may have piled more garbage on top of it.
4). Ladies- I KNOW I am not alone on this one. Dane – (looking at my outfit quizzically) “is that shirt new?” Me – (pretending to look surprised) “What? This old thing? No. I got it ages ago. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed me wearing it before. You clearly need to pay attention to me more.” The shirt was new people.
5). Dane- “What did Olive eat today?” Me – “for breakfast she had a kale and spinach smoothie. Lunch she has organic lentil soup with quinoa and a salad. Her afternoon snack was celery sticks with rutabaga. And she JUST finished eating supper before you got home. She had beets with peas, and a few roasted chickpeas. For dessert she had 4 organic raisins and a blueberry.” She had a cookie. And a fruit leather. Sue me.
Sometimes I know Dane knows I’m lying. But he can’t call me out because he has his little secrets he’s kept from me. How do I know? Because his phone dings off the kijiji sound 3-5 times a week. So I know he’s buying some stupid part for his quad or some tool he just HAS to have. Last year, he went to some auction. Called me from there to inform me that he has spent our retirement plan savings on counter top and random tools. One of which is still sitting in the garage, untouched. (Anyone want to buy a sander?) Why? Because it was such a “good deal.” So the next time I find a dress at anthro, this will be my strategy. “is that a new dress?” “You bet your countertops it is! It was such a good deal I just had to buy it.” Ah, the joys of marriage. What are your secrets? Any of the above sound familiar?
There are days where I truly think Amelia Bedelia is my spirit animal. I always cringed when she would screw up the simplest of things… but I’m now realizing her and I have more in common than I care to admit. Wanna hear about my day? Probably not. But I’ll share anyway because I’m an “over sharer.” And one day I’ll read my blog post and think it’s funny. But today I don’t think it’s funny. I never have liked alcohol, I pretty much think it’s gross. But I may take up drinking wine after this fun day. My friends seem to think it’s the answer to most problems… So cheers to vino!
January 29, 2018: 1:00 am- Olive wakes up. Olive refuses to fall back asleep. She whines. She cries. She screams. I want to cry. I do cry. I’m exhausted. I’m laying on the floor begging her to lay down. She would rather jump up and down, cry, laugh at me, throw her stuffed animals at me. Anything but sleep. She finally fell asleep at 3:30 am. So needless to say, I was tired the next day. And my day only got worse.
Most Amelia Bedelia morning so far. I put Olive down for a nap ( thinking she would fall asleep right away based on how our night went) to which she refused to actually nap. But I left her in her crib because I was showing her discipline. Just kidding. I left her in there because I was hoping for a miracle. So after 20 mins of her throwing every stuffed animal she has, all her blankets, her glass bottle, everything out of her crib, I hear her whine and say “poopoo.” Not a huge deal. She thinks farting is poo poo. So I let her whine and keep “disciplining” her. After a few more minutes she’s getting angry and starting to scream at me. So I walk into her room. 4 of her bunnies are on the floor. Her two “blankies” are also on the floor. Her bottle with milk leaking out is on the floor. Her pants are on the floor. Her…… diaper is not on the floor. It’s in the crib. And yes ma’am you guessed right! DING!! DING!! DING!! She had indeed had “poopoo’ed.” Did I mention Olive had a LOT of blueberries for supper the night before? And that she had a blueberry spinach smoothie for breakfast? Ya. You get where I’m going with this. Fibre, lot’s of fibre. Greenish/blueish colours. Squishiness. Her bare, non clean bum hanging out. I put on my big girl panties (more like grandma panties) and dealt with the blueberry situation.
I made a fairly grand supper. A casserole, salad with homemade dressing (if you don’t make your own dressing- please get in touch with me. I’ll give you recipes and they are delicious and easy. Anyways, moving on). I even made dinner buns. Like…. from scratch. So I guess you could say I was pretty heroic. At supper, we force feed Olive at first. EVERY. TIME. It’s the only way she’ll eat. You force it in her mouth, then she realizes she actually likes it and then she’ll eat it on her own. So Dane forces it in her mouth and she starts wailing. But she swallows it. I give her a piece of bun and she chews it, gags and then pukes. She was not a fan of my heroic efforts. So she ate cucumber for supper.
I, for whatever reason think chocolate chip cookies should be made. So I make some. We have a gas stovetop. So when I take out my cookie sheet and place it on top of the stovetop, the edge of the cookie sheet turns on not one, not two, not three, BUT FOUR burners. SO the parchment paper where my perfectly golden, crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside cookies are situated perfectly, catches fire. Like an actual flame. I have oven mitts on, and I can’t seem to figure out that I need to take them off in order for my hands to actually work. So my cookies are engulfed in flames (slight exaggeration), I’m standing there with thick oven mitts on trying to turn off all the burners, Olive is freaking out because she thinks I’m hurt and she’s crying, Dane is staring at me like he’s just walked into a madhouse. Finally the flames are extinguished, the cookies have been saved, the burners have been turned off, Olive has calmed down. I take off my oven mitts and kinda chuckle while looking at Dane as if to say “oh man, what gong show…” then sear my forearm not in one, but two places on the cookie sheet that had just been in flames. The same arm that mere moments had a huge oven mitt on. I can’t make this stuff up.
There are days that are exhausting and they suck. This day was one of them. But man, that kid lights up my days. I love her laugh. How her tiny, soft hand feels in mine. How she scrunches her face and says “ohh! toot!” whenever she sees something she thinks is cute. How she runs down the hall and she thinks she’s sprinting. How she is obsessed with ice. How she loves all her stuffed animals. How she’s perfect.
You’ve done it. Don’t lie to yourself. We have at one point in time before kids said “I will NEVER do that when I have kids…” But you have to say that in a self righteous, valley girl kinda voice (what IS a valley girl anyways? Is it from sweet valley high twins from your preteen years? Is it girls who live in the valley? What’s a valley? These are legitimate questions I have). Here are my “I will never do that when I have kids” things that I now do regularly. Or things you swore you ALWAYS would do, but now never do. Tell me yours in the comments.
1). I will never bribe my kid. Real life- I bribe Olive everyday. Every hour. “If you eat this i’ll give you a “nanny” (candy in her words). Chocolate chips are my new best friend. “Olive, if you let me cut your fingernails and toenails Mommy will give you chocolate chips?” She ate 20 chocolate chips in one sitting that day… but she also had 10 fingernails neatly trimmed along with 10 neatly trimmed toenails. (Ok, “neatly” is a slight exaggeration).
2). I will always make my own baby food. I’m not really sure what to even write about this. I literally never once made Olive homemade baby food. I even went so far as to buy the plastic pouches. I returned them back to homesense for store credit and bought myself something for me, and just went and bought baby food at the grocery store.
3). I’ll never let her go on my phone or watch electronics. Insert *wailing, whining, screaming child* “Olive, do you want my phone?” I actually WISH she would sit for longer than 37 seconds in front of the computer watching whatever kid show I find on Netflix… but she’s still too little and would rather beat the keyboard, stand on it, or throw the mouse across the living room. But man, for those 37 seconds I sure do live it up.
4). I’ll only feed her organic stuff. I’m no Kim K, so I can’f afford that stuff. Also, because I’m able to use some of my brain cells to trick people into thinking I’m somewhat intellectual. Also cuz my behind … I got that from my momma and my Latina ancestors. Not from a turkey baster filled with silicone or fat from my love handles. No, I still got them handles.
5). I’ll never let my kid have a temper tantrum in public. Again, insert *wailing, whining, screaming child* “Ok, you wanna have a temper tantrum in the middle of costco? I don’t care. Mommy is gonna keep shopping. Let me know when you’re done.” All the while your face is red from embarrassment, your forehead has beads of sweat from tensing your whole body, and you’re fighting back tears……………….. because you just walked by the cookbook section and your husband said you’re not allowed to buy any more cookbooks.
6). I’ll never let my kid look like she just rolled out of bed. I hated seeing little kids in their pyjamas in the grocery stores, hair stuck out like they just got electrocuted. I dunno why, I just hated it. I technically hate seeing adults in their fleece pyjamas more, but that’s another blog post for another day. I haven’t taken her out in her pyjamas quite yet, but her hair has definitely been questionable at times. And I didn’t even care.
7). I will always sanitize my bottles. I don’t reminder the last time I sanitized them. Maybe a year ago? I mean, I wash them. With hot water and soap. But do you guys remember boiling a pot of water and dumping them all in there? That was short lived. Very short lived.
Wether you’re a mom who still sanitizes bottles, or somehow has managed to make mangosteen green smoothies for her kid every morning, or wether you’re a mom who gave her kid a donut for breakfast this morning, or wether you’re a mom who let their kid watch paw patrol all day, just keep going. You’re doing good either way. Could you do better? Probably. The one thing I’ve learned though is that your kid wants to laugh with you. They want to interact with you. They want to sit with you. They want to play with you. They want to be chased by you. They want to be held by you. They want to be thrown in the air by you. They want to eat next to you. They want to be hugged by you. They want to be kissed by you. They want….. you. Their Mom. And you’ve already succeeded in being that. So pat yourself on the back Momma, you’re tough as mother. Tomorrow is a new day. Tantrums are waiting. Poop is waiting. Messes are waiting. Freak outs in public are waiting. Refusals of eating are waiting. You got this. And if today you sucked, tomorrow is another day to suck even more. But there will come a day when you don’t suck. And that day is the one day that keeps us going for the next 3 sucky days. And they’re kinda worth it.
Someone I’ve never met DM’d me a couple weeks ago telling me she loved reading my blog, thought I was funny and relatable, and that my bluntness “was a breath of fresh air.” I’m writing this 100% to brag to you, and have you guys know that someone out there thinks I’m funny. And that I’ve been compared to a “breath of fresh air.” No other reason other than that. So ya, that concludes this post.
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Just kidding. I got to thinking about the word relatable. So I looked up the word.
re·lat·a·ble
2 “enabling a person to feel that they can relate to someone or something: Mary-Kate’s problems make her more relatable.”
I’m not Mary-Kate, but I do got problems. So I hope that in some way I can ENABLE you to feel like you can RELATE to me. So this is my blog post today. It’s about telling you guys the truths of motherhood. And maybe it’s the truths you won’t say out loud, you just think them in your head. It might be the truths you feel you can’t say out loud because you’ll be judged as a mom. Or it could be the things you do as a mom that you would be horrified if someone found out. So I’ll say them for you. And you can judge me, just not out loud. Only in your head. Capish?
1. Have you ever considered (or actually given) giving your kid tylenol when they didn’t need it, only because the label said “may cause drowsiness?” Ya, me neither.
2. Kids books are boring. And so not believable. Like, you’re telling me this stupid hungry caterpillar ate chocolate cake, a pickle, a lollipop, salami, an ice cream cone, cherry pie, sausage, swiss cheese, a cupcake, and watermelon, plus all that fruit… and he magically becomes a beautiful butterfly? If I ate all that there would be very little about me that would be “beautiful.” A more accurate story would be that the caterpillar was a glutton and died of clogged arteries and diabetes. And that is why gluttony is a sin. And that kids is why you drink a green juice. THE END.
3. Do you ever worry your kid might grow up and not be smart? I’m being honest. It is a legit worry of mine. What if Olive sucks at school? I did. What if at parent teacher interviews you get the “Olive is a bright student, if only she would apply herself….” (I only know the wording because, well….. my parents kept my report cards). Whatever.
4. You are somewhat happy your kid can’t quite talk yet. Or her words to her dad might be “west ed” and “McDonald’s.”
5. Your kid is boring. Like, they’re cute and all, and you wanna kiss their cheeks…. but you can only play peek-a-boo so many hundred times in an hour before you start to wonder “Does this kid seriously not know that I’m not hiding?”
6. “Leave me ALONE.” DO you ever think that? I think that a lot. Like when I’m cooking. Or on the toilet. Or in the shower. Or at 6:00 in the morning. Or trying to eat. Or trying to enjoy a friends company. Or trying to make out with your husband. Or vacuuming. Or doing my makeup. Or doing my hair. Like I said… I think that a lot.
7. Wishing naps lasted all day. Or at least until your husband came home. I ONLY think that when I have a ton of stuff to get done (*wink wink*) But man, a 6 hour nap would definitely help a mother out.
8. Ever given your kid fruit snacks and junk food for lunch? Or completely forgot to feed your kid all together? Cool, me neither.
9. Used them as an excuse to not go out? “Olive is super tired, so I won’t be able to make it to the book club this month. And she’ll probably still be super tired for next month’s as well. Thanks so much for the invite though!”
10. Here’s the one that I probably shouldn’t admit. But Mary-Kate and me gotta stick together. I sometimes wish for my life before her. And I promise it’s not often. It used to be, but not anymore. But there are days that are really hard. And not physically. But emotionally and mentally you’re spent. You have nothing else to give. You’ve been screamed at, smacked, whined at, had food thrown at you. Been puked on. Had poo go under your fingernail. Had them “help” empty the dishwasher. Found your keys in the garbage (true story). Had a hard book corner hit you in the eye. Your arms are are tired from holding them. And you still have to clean up the trail of mess they’ve left and make supper. Those are the days where I think “what would I be doing 2 years ago?” I would probably have been baking. Or shopping (in peace). I could have watched a movie by myself. I could have hung out with a friend without lugging around 18 lbs of diapers, wipes, extra clothes, snacks, etc. I could have been organizing my sock drawer. Anything. And sometimes when I think about it I get the slightest of tears in my eyes. Like last week. When Olive sucked all my energy and I went into the pantry to take a deep breath and cry. And when I came out Dane asked why I was crying and I said “it’s the onions.” (luckily I was chopping onions right before). It wasn’t the onions. It was Olive. Those days are hard. Those days I think back to two years ago. Before Olive.
11. “If the baby wasn’t here, my life would be normal.” Ever have that thought? And then immediately think to yourself “I can’t tell people that. I can’t say that out loud. If you say these things people will think you’re an unfit mother. Someone will try and take my baby away. They’ll put me in a mental hospital. Maybe there’s something wrong wth me? Maybe I’m actually a bad mom? Moms don’t think these things.” Well, I’m here to tell you that I don’t know if these are normal thing to think. I’m here to tell you that I don’t know if other moms think this way. I’m pretty sure (like 99.9%) that it IS normal, and that other moms DO think these things, but I can’t say for certain. I CAN tell you, that I, Claudia Redel…. think these things.
Olive has changed my life. I’m not gonna write “for the better.” Not yet. But she has changed it. I’ve become more patient. I have become more nurturing. I’ve somehow learned to run on no sleep. I’ve become more organized (most days that isn’t very apparent). I’ve become more understanding of what my mother went through (AT 20!) I’ve learned to trust my instinct more. I’ve become more sure of myself. I’ve become more confident (not in the mom bod department). I’ve become more protective of what is mine and my territory as a mother. I’ve become less judgemental of other women. I’ve become more compassionate to other moms. I’ve had to learn to stand my ground on what I think is best for my daughter.
I’m learning to juggle what it means being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. Some (most) days I feel like I’m failing at all of the above. But I’ve kinda learned to not give a flying squirrel’s booty. Because Olive needs me more than anyone in this WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. And while that is some intense pressure, it’s also one of the most rewarding (so cliche, but also kinda true). Because when she sees me her brown eyes light up and she runs to me and says “MAMI!!’ Or when she grins with her teeth when I’m being a silly brain and she laughs at me like I’m literally the funniest person ever. Or when she puts her head on my shoulder and pats my back and says “Shh, Shh” cuz she’s trying to put me to sleep (nice try Olive). Or her little hand that insists on helping me put lotion on my skin after the shower. Or when she wants a sip of my drink she makes eye contact and bobbles her head up and down and points with her tiny finger and says “ya? ya?” Or when she needs help or wants something she shows all of her little teeth and says “peaaaassss.” Those moments are worth it now, when she’s asleep in her crib. But not in the bad moments. In the bad moments you just wanna scream so loud and cry so hard. (See? Honesty).
Hey Olive, have you changed my life for the better? Ya. You have. Thank you.
So it’s mine and Dane’s dating anniversary on Saturday. F-O-U-R-T-E-E-N years. When I mentioned it to him a couple days ago and asked what we were gonna do, he rolled his eyes and said “what the frig, nothing. I think its lame. I don’t ever wanna celebrate that anniversary, I think it’s stupid.” I know guys, I know… no need to tell me how lucky of a gal I am. Found me a prince charming I tell ya! In my defence, we don’t celebrate our wedding anniversary either. And he also thinks birthdays shouldn’t be a thing after you turn 10. So can you really blame me for wanting to celebrate 14 flipping years with this dude? I think I deserve a medal for putting up with him this long. I know I’m making him out to look like an ogre, but that’s only because he is. But I love him. While I might be dreading when we’re 80 and sitting on our front porch and he’s waving his cane at the neighbourhood kids and yelling profanities to get off his lawn he so meticulously waters, fertilizes, mows, whispers “I love you” to (he’s obsessed with perfect lawns and he’s a perfectionist), I’m still looking forward to the rest of this life with him. My grump. So here’s the story of how Dane Redel was the boy of my dreams (we lived in Whitecourt, it wasn’t hard to be a girls dream guy, it was slim pick ins’ people!) and how we ended up together.
We met in grade 8. He claims it was math class I walked into, I swear it was social. Point is, I didn’t even notice Dane. NOPE. I saw this other guy and I blushed because I thought he was cute. I’m pretty sure this kid had facial hair already at 13, and he had a chain around his neck… and a ski jump hair do, so I was smitten. But he was kind of an ass and he smoked, so I was over it pretty quick. Then I noticed this other kid. He was tall and had messy hair and was wearing velcro sandals (he may kill me). He was wearing sweat pants and a blue Hawaiian button up shirt. But it was cool cuz he wore a white tee under it and left a few buttons undone. You know, cool. And his smell. I swear I can still smell him. Adidas cologne. He was confident and cocky, he was smart, he was witty, even his smile was cocky, his teeth were straight, he was good at pretty much every sport, he was athletic, he was a jock, he was perfect in my 13 year old eyes. Only downfall was his name was Bob, so I moved unto the next best thing… Dane Redel. KIDDING. It was Dane. I don’t know any one named Bob. So this kid Dane….
Turns out he was a jerk. No, seriously. He was. We basically had no interaction all of grade 8. I was invisible to him. Then grade 9 came along, and he was still a jerk. He teased me. He would say the rudest things to me. He would steal my notes between my friend Megan and me. He would steal my pencil case (to be fair… what 13 year old has a pencil case? Me). He would steal my gum. He even made me cry a couple times. That’s kinda how the whole year went. Everyone knew I liked him. Even good Ol’ Mr. Northcott, who bless his little heart even tried to set me up with him. (Mr. Northcott was like 5’3, chubby cheeks, thick moustache and and even thicker newfie accent). We were in English class one day and we had to pick partners for this project. So Mr. Northcott goes “Wellll, maybe I’ll set Claudia up to be partners with Dannnneee.” His friend AJ pipes up “Dane has a girlfriend!” THANKS AJ. I DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW THAT. You guys, this might be funny now, but it was traumatizing. To be a 14 year old, going through the awkward weird looking phase (sometimes I wonder if I ever grew out of this phase?) and have your crush tease you mercilessly, and now your teacher? I feel like there should be laws against this. Anyways, Dane and me were not partners.
Know what else might be just as traumatizing? Once in the summer between grade 9 going into grade 10, I was working at Dairy Queen (which should give you an idea of how embarrassing this story is going to go), and in walks Dane and a friend (shoutout to Cam). The two jocks of our grade. They ordered milk shakes while I was on cash, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never looked that red in my life. (Dane got blueberry, and yes I LITERALLY remember). I’m cringing while I write this, but me and this other kid that were working BOTH wanted to get the milkshakes. And we fought over who got to hand it to them. Me, because I wanted talk to Dane, and the other kid because he was a couple years younger and wanted to get in with the “cool” older jocks. Legit. So embarrassing.
Then grade 10 started. We were “friends” but not really. I say not really because I was terrified of him. He intimidated me. I was always nervous around him. But every once in awhile we would talk. He “dated” other girls (the word seems silly when you’re referencing it to 15 year olds, sorry). I pretended not to care. He would flirt with me, I would flirt back. That was it. Then the summer of us going into grade 11, for whatever reason, we kinda became friends without the quotation marks. We met at the river a couple of times. He held my hand going up against the current. We floated back down in our shoes and clothes. I think we even talked on the phone a couple of times. He met my parents.
Grade 11 starts and we keep talking. I remember I walked with him to pick up his parents car from the shop once and he drove me home. That day, when he dropped me off he turned towards me and asked “can I take you out for lunch tomorrow?” We went to Dairy Queen the next day. (I mean, I paid for myself and AJ came along, but it was kind of like a first date, haha). It’s been 14 years, my memories are fuzzy, but On November 25th, 2013, Dane had basketball practice. Which he went to. But he made a detour to my house first. We were hanging out and 10 mins before he had to leave he asked if I had a pen. So I gave him one. He took my hand, and in the palm of it he wrote “will you be my girl?” That was 14 years ago.
In fourteen years we’ve never been “on and off.” We’ve never broken up. We’ve never taken a “break.” Its been 14 years of togetherness. Girls have this notion that it’s so romantic, and “oh man, you’re so lucky you found a guy like Dane.” NO. Luck has nothing to do with it. You know what does? Work. And hard work. I’ve never quit or given up on him, and neither has he. But I think what makes us work is that I’ve never wanted to. I’ve never wanted to throw in the towel. Even if I said “I’m done, I give up,” I was never done. I never wanted to be done. Have we ever considered divorce? No, not even once, not even a little bit. Sometimes I think I might have loved Dane before we even started dating. And I mean that honestly. I remember my friend once had us write down our “wishes” and put them in a film canister and bury it. My “wish” was to date Dane. Even after 14 years, 7 of which have been married, I still love him, even more than at first. I want to hug him all the time. I want to be around him all the time. I wanna go on adventures with him for the rest of my life. He’s someone I admire. I look up to him. I aspire to have more of his traits. He’s my husband, he’s my rock, he’s my headache a lot of the time, but man oh man, he’s also my everything.
I give Dane a hard time because he’s so straight forward and not lovey dovey, but that’s just him. He don’t beat around the bush. He’s my strength when I’ve needed him to be. But sometimes, I’ll be jabbering away about the most pointless thing and he’ll tell me I’m cute, and my knees just about give out. Or he’ll bring home flowers from the grocery store when I’ve sent him out for eggs. And every night, without fail, he puts his hand on my leg and squeezes it before he turns over and says goodnight. He always kisses me goodbye before he leaves in the morning. He loves me a lot. Which is a weird thing to say about yourself, but it’s true. Dane loves me and I know this because he shows me everyday. He lets me feel it everyday. And I hope that he knows how much I truly love him, and how thankful I am for the last 14 years. They have shaped me into who I am today, and I cannot wait to spend another 14 years with the kid who would steal my pencil case, but also the kid who held my hand that day at the river in the freezing water. I’ve never been more in love with you than I am today Dane Redel. Thank you for loving me.
14 reason why I love Dane:
1). He has the best work ethic of anyone I know
2). He’s smart. Like he can talk to you about politics, the physics of why that thing is doing that other thing, economics, and about Lord of the Rings. Pretty much anything.
3). He is curious about everything. He wants to know why and how, and to just know.
4). He is a clean freak, which benefits me.
5). He can cook, which doesn’t benefit me because it annoys me that he’s better.
6). He’s hot. Nuff said.
7). He’s super talented and handy and basically can do anything around the house.
8). He lets me be the little spoon even though he hates cuddling.
9). He loves adventure.
10). His laugh is infectious and I love it.
11). His hands are always beat up and dried out from working, but I love them.
12). He’s loyal till the end.
13). He thinks I’m funny
14). He loves his little family and would fight ninjas or orcs off for us. And he loves Olive and she loves him. And I love them.
