Happy 11th Anniversary to us! The town is throwing us a parade. Okay, not really; it's Beachcomber Days.
It's the kind of weekend when it's great to live in a small town. We can go to the parade, see lots of people we know (in it and watching), and hopefully have an elephant ear, yet not have to deal with huge crowds. Tomorrow there are the sandcastle contest and the wonderfully silly bed races.
I'm meeting friends for the parade and I'm excited to zip Anna around in the stroller and see how she likes her first parade (though I suspect fire truck sirens may not be a hit). And yet I'm a little sad that Aaron's not here for it, especially since it is our anniversary.
It's not that we're big mushy-gushy anniversary-celebrators; we're usually really low-key. But last year was our 10th and what did we do? I don't even specifically remember, but I think that's because the answer is NOTHING. Aaron had only been home from his heart surgery a week. He was still drugged up and tired. I was charting his drugs and holding my breath for adoption travel plans. I do know that last year I went to the parade with my mother-in-law, who was out here for the surgery, and everyone was asking about Aaron.
So it's kind of a bummer that he's not here today, but he returns tonight and will be happy he at least won't miss the bed races tomorrow. I will just be happy he's here! But Anna has been great for me, really, and we've gotten out and done a lot--walks, beach, playground, trying a friend's Wii Fit (I shalt covet!).
Okay, enough whining--time for a parade!