A couple of weeks ago, a bank teller asked me if I’d had a good weekend, and I replied that my hubby and I had just celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary. The young man looked at me incredulously and said, “35 years!! That’s awesome.” Then he asked, “Do you still like him?” Valid question, I suppose, but I didn’t hesitate a moment before answering honestly that I liked him more now then I did when I married him.
I might joke and say after 35 years of training him, I’d better like this version more. Lucky for me, my hubby’s like a fine wine, he only gets better with age. He treats me like a china doll, which can be lovely or annoying depending on the situation, but his efforts are always appreciated.
With our anniversary just behind us and Father’s Day fast approaching, I’m in the mood to reminisce. 35 years is a long time, so buckle up, it’s going to take a few weeks. 😉
We met in July of 1976, when we both started a new job with the same company. I was 18 and he’d just turned 19. I thought he was a cutie, but it wasn’t love at first sight for either of us.
We were a young tight-knit group of coworkers back then and often socialized together. Hubby and I always tended to gravitate to one another at these social gatherings and in a matter of months we became a couple. Not real romantic, I know. But maybe it was better. Good friends became lifelong mates.
From the start, he did his share of the housework.
Over the years his cooking skills grew far beyond making “homemade” pizza and he does most of the cooking now.
I did have to train him in certain areas, like not rebuilding carburetors on the kitchen table.
We married in May of 1978
We were admittedly very young and some family members on both sides were rather lukewarm about our decision. Some even adamantly voiced their disapproval. (I’d like to think they’ve changed their minds since then)
A year after we wed, we moved to Dawson Creek, in BC’s north, where Hubby started a HD mechanic apprenticeship with Finning.
We were a long way from home, just the two of us, to face everything life threw our way with no family support. We had good friends, though, really good friends. And along with the sicknesses, the accidents, the hardships, we had a lot of fun. Rough camping, boating, dancing at the downtown clubs or just getting together to hang out.
We also created a family of our own. Hubby wanted boys and that’s what he got, three times over.
In 1981, our first son was born.
Nineteen months later, we welcomed son number two, affectionately known as my brown-eyed boy.
I had to have been crazy. We were camping in this picture. The baby was only 6 weeks old, and I’d just had a c-section. Oh to be young again.
I’d thought our little family was complete, but apparently it wasn’t. Four years later, baby boy number three joined the family.
Hubby embraced fatherhood. A real hands-on dad, he changed diapers, took his turn with the bottles, and by the third kid, he had bathing down to a science. (Notice the two little heads at the bottom of the picture. Daddy had some help from the big brothers)
Daddy was always good for snuggles or a comfy place to snooze.
In fact, you can never be too big for a cuddle.
The fun really started once the boys arrived. I’ll share more memories next weekend.