Wedding Vows, a Decade Later.

Chris, being the more creative and eloquent half of our marriage, personally wrote our wedding vows.  We said those vows ten years ago today, and they were beautiful and meaningful and everything you would want them to be.

But to be honest, I don’t remember a single line from them.

And yes, I asked – neither does he.

But, in celebration of our anniversary, we re-wrote our vows…as to what they could have been…

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Chris, do you promise to be the spouse responsible for finding what smells like a dead mouse in the pantry, only to discover a bag of grotesquely old potatoes?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to without complaint fix the toilets if Chris doesn’t have time to do so?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to lovingly and without complaint drive your wife to the emergency room in the middle of the night when she impales her hand while sleepwalking?

I Do.

And again, when she has a gall stone attack?

I Do.

And again, when she has a violent stomach virus for days on end?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to sit through endless football games with minimal complaints, regardless of the weather?

I Do.

And even learn a thing or two about the game?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to allow your wife to lovingly blog about your most embarrassing moments?

I Do.

And willingly agree to assist in live tweeting/blogging the birth of your child?

I Do.

Even if it makes the labor and delivery nurse think that you’re being inattentive to your wife in her greatest moment of need?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to change dirty diapers in proportion to the number of hours you are home?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to pretend to be deeply asleep when a baby cries in the night no more than fifty percent of the time?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to not laugh, make fun of, be disgusted by, or dance to the rhythm of Rachel’s Breast pump?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to lovingly help your husband with his difficulties in matching his clothing, never poking fun at his disease of colorblindness?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to limit your use of the phrase, “I TOLD you we shouldn’t have gotten a cat!!” to once a week or less?

I Do.

And lovingly and without complaint change the litter box of said cat during or around Rachel’s pregnancies and thereafter because Rachel may never take back over the cat litter duties?

I Do.

And the duties of feeding, watering, treating, and daily petting of said cat?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to never dress Chris’ son in smock, seersucker, Jon Jons, white embroidered dedication gowns, or any other clothing that Chris deems unacceptable?

I Do.

And do you promise to allow said son wear overalls with no shirt underneath, even to his baby dedication?

I Do…maybe.

Chris, do you promise to indulge Rachel’s desire for adventure, even if you’re not QUITE as fond of heights as she?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to not berate Chris when he opts for Laughing Gas to get one ridiculously tiny cavity filled even though you’ve never gotten the gas despite thousands of cavities and dozens of root canals?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to drive Rachel to work and pick her up from work daily for six weeks after she has foot surgery?

I Do.

And for six more weeks, after she has a second foot surgery?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to rush your wife to Labor and Delivery, even if for a false alarm?

I Do.

And again, when she has a false alarm with her second baby?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to limit your rage and despair to a 24 hour period when you flood the downstairs of your first house, the first night of living there, the first time you ever do laundry?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to be patient and mitigate your fear as much as possible as Chris wages long-term guerrilla warfare with Satan the Squirrel, which might include filling the attic with Great Foam, dumping untold amounts of moth balls into the walls, putting peanut butter in the attic, and purchasing poison, a pistol, bullets, and traps in a fit of hatred and malice toward all Squirrels?

I Do.

And not declare him an unfit soldier when Satan the Squirrel chews through the wall and peeks into your shower mid-stream?

I Do.

Chris, do you promise to not react negatively, but comfort your heartbroken wife when she dents her bumper less than two weeks after finally getting her SUV back from getting a brand new bumper?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to admit within two weeks that you were the one who scratched Chris’ brand new iPhone?

I Do.

And Chris, do you promise to forgive Rachel for her transgressions, especially since she scratched said iPhone with the marquis-cut engagement ring that YOU gave her?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to be a good sport and play along as Chris wholeheartedly pursues “short-cuts” that turn into scenic routes, both on foot and behind the wheel?

I Do.

Rachel, do you promise to play board games with Chris even though his turns last an eighth of your lifetime?

I Do.

Chris, you may now kiss your bride.