I know how most people feel about Tax Day, but it's different for us. It's a happy occasion, because on this date all the way back in 2009 (is really four years ago already? is it really ONLY four years ago?) Shae's adoption was final, and the three of us became HER plus two old dorks lugging all her crap around. Or, in other words: A FAMILY.
We've been having a hell of a time lately, our little family. Growing pains, mostly. A whole bunch of nonsense and foolishness and trying to figure things out. This stuff happens in families. We have our moments when shift schedules and uncertainty and grad school and sleep deprivation and things unnoticed at the time kind of all sneak up on you on roller skates and whomp you over the head and make you PAY GODDAMN ATTENTION.
This, too, shall pass. And in the meantime, we have each other.
I read somewhere that nothing in the world can make a person crazy like a family can. I can't remember who said it -- Dave Barry or Erma Bombeck, probably. The more you love your family, the worse it is. That is not a complaint, really, but a fact of life. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both. There's a time you've got to go and show you're growing.
I complain sometimes about the problems I have, the guerrilla wars I stupidly throw myself headlong into for lack of anything better to do, but the truth is: I have it good. I have it better than most. I have a husband I love and who loves me, we have a daughter we both adore, and whatever stupid thing we're going through right now, we're going through it together, and we'll come out the other side together, and maybe we'll all be bruised and banged up, but we'll heal. Together.
Happy Family-versary, you guys. I love you. And I promise: someday we'll look back on this and laugh. (We might need a drink or twelve first, but we'll laugh eventually.)