Cheers to SIX Years!

In so many ways.
In allllll the ways.

I remember being 22 and seeing you for the first time. You were manning a BBQ, wore a backwards ball cap, rocking your Birkenstocks + drinking a corona.I remember saying to my bestie “you didn’t tell me he was cuuuute” and then I proceeded to be really cute around you so you’d notice me + strike up a conversation. Jokes on me because you didn’t say a word to me until I was like, this is straight word bananas + I grabbed a chair and sat right beside you and talked your ear off (I haven’t stopped doing that since that day…).I remember when you picked me up (in your white pick up!) from the bar I was working at—it was our one month anniversary and you brought me sliced watermelon + the most gorgeous coral roses. To this day, those are still the most beautiful flowers you have EVER surprised me with.

I remember the day I met your best friends, your mama, and the huge Bowman clan. I remember being instantly welcomed in like family. I was nervous and excited, a glimpse into who you were + where you came from.

I remember how many chats your boys had with me about not breaking your heart + the hugs and safety I felt with them. They’re my brothers now + I’m grateful for their friendships.

I remember the first time you said I LOVE YOU + I didn’t say it back for two more months. I felt the same way but admitting it out loud so early in our relationship scared me. I knew you were going to be the great love of my life the first night we met.

I remember our first vacation to Puerto Vallarta when we had only been together six months + I was secretly wishing we’d elope and hoping you could read my mind. Sorry I drank too many salted dog cocktails (no salt!) + might have puked on you…more than once…true love, right!?

I remember moving in together and how much fun we had in that cute one bedroom apartment we had in HP—the parties we hosted + the summer nights sitting on our balcony talking about our future.

I remember how you would pick me up from whichever restaurant I was working at almost every single shift. You would sit at home + will yourself to stay awake to make sure I got home safe and that we could see each other before bed + your early morning wake ups for work. Our schedules were so opposite but we made it work. It’s no easy to be with someone who works in the restaurant industry.

I remember how we would fight most in the car—I would just spill my heart + know we couldn’t leave the vehicle until it was all sorted. We’ve never gone to bed angry at each other—irritated, sure. But angry or mad!? Never. I’m proud of that.

I remember how nervous you were when you proposed to me at Nana + Grandpa Bowman’s cottage. I remember feeling like time stood still as we were in the middle of the lake right before a storm—there was no one around + the lake was so calm. I can feel the butterflies when I think about that day. It was pure magic. Andddd my ring!? Easily my most treasured possession. You did good boo, you did good. I look at my rings daily + feel so grateful to be wearing them and they’re the most beautiful reminder of the commitment we have made to one another.

I remember working so hard the year before our wedding. I remember the arguments about wedding details. I remember working allllll the shifts at the cookhouse + spending my downtime binge watching Greys. I’ve never busted my butt working like that or saved money like that before—it made our wedding that much sweeter for me. That day was perfect. I can’t wait for our ten year vow renewal party. It’ll be even better, like, get ready.

I remember our honeymoon—the smell of the resort (lavender + eucalyptus EOs!), the friends we made, the sushi and tacos and tequila and mojitos and coronas and wine and how relaxed we were. I was so excited to say “husband” every chance I got. I had the pleasure of being called “Mrs Bowman” and it made me giddy—and to be so honest, I still love this. Like, a lot.

I remember when we started trying to get pregnant, finding out we were expecting + the way in which I told you we had a bun in the oven. I had just started a new job + I loved it—took a test at the bakery and left early shaking + filled with disbelief and excitement and nerves—so many nerves. I paced all over our apartment until you came home. I put a bun in the oven + had you open it and see if you got it…you needed some prompting (“is it a sandwich!?”)…seriously. I remember the look of fear and amazement and nerves and excitement in your eyes that moment. Our lives forever changed right then.

I remember the way you took such great care of me throughout my pregnancy with George + how thrilled you were when you found out we were having a boy. I could see the goals and dreams of yours of having your own little dude coming to fruition. I could see how happy that would make you—what I didn’t know then but am grateful to know now is how deeply happy George makes you. How he can bring you to your knees, to tears. How much he loves you and looks up to you + how proud and happy that makes you.

I remember when I went into labour with GBB and we walked around the neighbourhood and would stop often when I had a contraction. It was wild. It was calm. We sat and timed contractions and talked about how this was the beginning of the life we had been dreaming about—the life we talked and dreamed up when we would sit on that balcony in our sweet one bedroom apartment. I remember how calm you were. I remember how your stability grounded me in the most life changing experience of my life.

I remember the labour and delivery of George. I remember how intense it was. I remember how calm you appeared. Your space felt calm even though I knew deep down you were scared. I remember the look in your eyes the moment George arrived. I remember the tears of happiness mixed with worry + fear. I remember you experiencing skin on skin with newborn GBB while I recuperated. I remember looking over at you and your mini me creating an unspoken bond—a bond I will never be apart of, one that is uniquely your own + one that I am grateful for. Our son has the very best man to guide and lead him into adulthood. I could cry by how happy this makes me.

I remember those first months home with a newborn. It was so hard. You told me I was beautiful. You made sure I ate and that I was resting. You didn’t complain about the dishes. You didn’t complain about the laundry. You just came home after an arduous dat at work and silently tidied up and made dinner. I remember knowing that you knew I was struggling—I think you knew more than I did. I was struggling. I struggled. For that whole first year. I remember thinking I could never do this parenting thing with anyone else. I would never want to. I don’t ever want to.

I remember moving into our home + starting to create the family memories we dreamed about. I remember all the IKEA trips that you loved so much (ha!) and how you would trust my design ideas + know that I was going to make this house into a home. You still go along with my ideas + I love you for it.

I remember George’s birthdays and how you’d begrudgingly drive all over the city doing loads of errands for me so that we could have tables, chairs, massive balloons, a bouncy castle etc etc etc. You’re always game to get in on the party action even though you tell me every year “let’s not go overboard”… I make no promises, ha.

I remember the night we found out we were pregnant with Elle. You were on your way out of town to work. It was a few days before Mother’s Day. I remember George being awake + him being more excited about the actual pregnancy test…waving that pee stick all over the place. I remember wishing I had told you in a more creative way but I remember how happy you sounded.

I remember our first trip to Algonquin with George. I was 16 weeks pregnant + canoe camping + portaging with our closest friends was amazing. You carried everything and George + I took it super slow through the mud and the rain. It was an incredible experience + I saw the look on your face and could feel the joy emanating from you watching George love being in the canoe; in the wilderness. One of your dreams coming true.

I remember how quickly my pregnancy went with Eloise + that winter night when I went into labour. I remember showing up at the hospital + walking the halls with you at 3:30am. You were exhausted. You were calm . Same halls + gosh, totally different labour, totally different story. I remember you “sleeping” on the same bench in a lobby at 4:30am while I paced + laboured + focused on my breath. I remember how hilarious and cute you looked in your hospital gown when I was getting the epidural + how jokes our anesthesiologist was— weird that I wasn’t worried about his joking + friendly demeanour as he was putting a gigantic needle in my spine…

ANYWAY.

I remember the very moment you brought George into the hospital room to meet his little sister. You were holding his hand and he was so apprehensive. I think more than anything he was concerned with the fact that I was in a hospital + wearing a gown and you were that stability for him; for us. That day was monumental for you two–it became the day that you were the duo; the boys. I remember being so very grateful for your strength and comfort in that moment. I remember thinking there is absolutely no way I could love you more.

I remember how quickly that first year of Eloise’s life just flew by. I remember navigating how at first, being at home with two littles was an insane blur but dang, those little work trips you would take George with you was so helpful. It was and is not lost on me how much more challenging work can be with a little 3 year old in tow. I remember you taking dude with you so I could rest with Eloise.

I remember our RV trip and how you drove 15 hours straight to get us to the East Coast as quickly as possible–you were such a champion while I slept with the kids in the back, ha. Sorry I didn’t stay up with you. That trip was crazy. It was wild. It was amazing. It was hilarious–I became really good at chugging my pints at restaurants when we quickly realized that we need to get out of there asap because George was standing on the table…

I remember that look in your eye when you sat down to tell me that you were pursuing your dream job as a firefighter. I remember the gleam of excitement + purpose and how dang calm you were about this complete challenge and life change. I remember the look on your face after your first day of firefighting school–pure HAPPINESS. pure JOY. pure PURPOSE. You were living in your potential + I thank my lucky stars that I had the privilege of witnessing it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so first hand someone taking their life in their hands + running, sprinting in fact, towards their dream. Thank you.

With each passing day, with every high + low, I am grateful for you. I am so deeply in love with you. You are my very best friend. And although it isn’t always easy and even though we are in a very interesting season of our life where our priorities are very much leaning away from one another, I am proud. I am proud of our marriage. I am proud of our dedication to one another. I am proud of our friendship, our willingness to communicate to one another EVEN if it’s hard, especially when it’s hard.
I am proud of you.

Thank you for walking alongside me in this incredible life journey + for giving me our beautiful children. They are my greatest blessing; my greatest joy.

I love you honey. Cheers to SIX year of marriage + and to many, many, many more adventures + fun + laughs + babies (seriously, let’s have more babies!!)!

XO