Matching Shirts And Twenty Years

First of all, THIS happened today:

IMG_2959When your boys are thirteen and two, matchy-matchy outfits never happen.  (I believe the primary reason is that your junior high son won’t want to wear the same outfit that his brother is wearing.)  But when the boy put on his bright green shirt this morning that is reminiscent of the fluorescent era of the late ’80s, I immediately ran to Thing 2’s closet and got HIS dayglow green shirt, too.

When Thing 2 came out of his bedroom, fully dressed, the boy looked at him and said, “Seriously?  We’re MATCHING today?”   (This was not asked with an abundance of joy.)

Yes.  Yes, you are matching today, and please take a seat on the chair right there, so that Mama can snap your picture, because PRICELESS KODAK MOMENT.  This is only the second time in the history of being the mother of two boys that they have dressed as twins.  I bought Thing 2’s shirt on a clearance rack, when I saw it, because I knew that the boy already had one just like it.  I have been secretly waiting for the day that the boy would put his shirt on, so that Thing 2 could follow follow suit.

And this is the day that the Lord has made; be glad and rejoice in it.  And also give three cheers for matching shirts!

In other news…

… today is the anniversary of my first date with Hubs.  Twenty entire years ago tonight, Hubs picked me up in his 1968 Camaro, which I honestly thought was an old Mustang, and he took me to see a movie.  Obviously, I was 6 and he was 7, so I’m not sure how he reached the pedals of his car, but thank heavens for automatics that don’t require a clutch when you’re in the first grade.

I should tell y’all that the date was lucky it happened.

I was in a spot in my life when I had completely given up on boys, and I was done dating.  Seriously.  I had been traded in a year before by one boy for a shady redhead, and I had just deliberately gotten rid of a redheaded boy in my own life, because… well… WEIRDO!  Red hair does not fair well in my dating history.  So I had decided that I was just going to enjoy my time as a single person, and I had been single approximately one week.

And then my phone rang, and it was Hubs (who was just Boy With a Really Sweet Mullet at the time).  I knew WHO Hubs was when he called, but I didn’t really know much about him.  As in, we had probably shared three conversations in our entire lives, even though we had both graduated from the same high school.

(It probably has to do with the fact that I never did understand wrestling, because why do boys want to flop around on a mat and sweat all over the place like that?  So really?  I don’t care if you ARE the captain of the wrestling team, because how on earth do you even get points in that sport?  I’ve always assumed points are a judgement call by the ref.  “Well that was a right-fine take-down!  I’ll give him six points!  Oh, that take-down wasn’t so brilliant.  I’ll give him five-point-six points!”  Whatever.)

When Hubs called, he asked if I would like to… you know… see a movie with him sometime.  And do you know what I said?  Well… I had fourteen irons in my fire that night, and I was basically running at full speed and out of breath when I answered my phone.  It was the days before cell phones, so I was trapped by the cord on the kitchen wall phone in my apartment, so I couldn’t keep accomplishing all that needed done that evening.  So I said, “Yeah… sure… but NOT tonight.  Not tonight at all.”

And Hubs mumbled, “No… not tonight.  Just whenever.”

And I said, “Yes… whenever… sometime.  Call me later.”

And clearly these are words that puts a boy at ease when he calls a girl for the first time.  His heart probably knew no greater joy in his entire life than it did at that very moment, when he hung up the telephone at his own house.

Fortunately, my sister happened to be at my apartment then, and she had witnessed the entire, very short conversation.  Which is when she informed me that I was… well… very possibly not quite as polite as I could have been.  And that is when I informed Sister that REMEMBER?  I was done dating, and really, I had so much to get done that night, and WHY DID SHE THINK SHE WAS THERE AT MY APARTMENT?  We were busting out some work!

Two nights later, I called Boy With A Really Sweet Mullet back, and I said, “I might have come across as rude.”  And, bless his heart, he said, “No; not at all.”  And then we talked on the phone for a few minutes more, and we decided that March 10th was a free night for both of us, so yes.  Let’s do a movie that evening.

I had zero expectations, because I had just purged my life of all redheads.  Hubs, of course, didn’t have red hair, but listen:  I wasn’t overly interested in dating anyone at the time.

But then the movie happened.  And while I sat there beside Boy With a Really Sweet Mullet, I decided that MAYBE he was kind of nice.  And I did think that he was incredibly cute.  And he was a complete gentleman the entire night, and he made me laugh.

So when he called me the next night, we talked on the phone for three entire hours.  I know!  If you know Hubs at all, you’ll ask yourself, “Hubs?  He talked for three hours on the phone?!  Are we both talking about the SAME GUY?  Hubs???!!”

Yes.  Yes, he did talk on the phone for three entire hours.

And we ended up with a second date.  And a third.  And eventually Hubs liked it and put a ring on it.  And I looked fabulous in my wedding dress with the poofy sleeves that were as wide as a barn door.

It was all terribly romantic.

Even for first graders.

Who drive old Mustangs with a Lita Ford cassette tape in the stereo.

Dear Hubs,

Thank you for a marvelous twenty years of hanging out with me.  I like you even better tonight than I did at that first movie, when you bought a Coke the size of a 50-gallon drum and assured me that you really could drink the entire thing.  I even still like you after such events as the time you almost shot me in the arm with a nail gun.  Thank you for putting up with my goofiness and my inability to figure out technology, no matter how hard I try.  Or how hard I really DON’T try.  I like sharing my life with you.  I like it a lot.  And I like our boys.  So thanks for twenty years.  We look pretty dadgum good together.

Love,

Mama

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