Story Time: Part Four – The END??!

Hello again. So sorry to leave you hanging for way longer than I intended. I wanted to finish up this whole story before 2019 hit, but what the heck happened, we’re already more than halfway through January? Stop it! Anyway, how was your 2018? Mine was one for the books, as I’ve been sharing over the last few posts. Today I’m finally wrapping up the final (for reals this time) chapter of those recent real-life events, a story thus far filled with INTRIGUE and SCANDAL but mostly just CRYING! Catch up on part one, two, or three if you care to follow along.

Or, here’s a quick recap:

I got divorced in 2017 after my 15-year marriage ended and it was a walk in the park, if the park was on fire and I was on fire and everything was on fire. So basically, the worst. I coped by floundering around like a fish out of water for a long time. Just flip flopping all over the place, gasping for air, confused, lost, all bug-eyed and scary looking. (If you too are finding yourself in a floundering fish phase of your life, don’t worry. I have learned that it’s actually quite normal. It feels like forever, but it does end. You’ll flop out of it in no time, you cute lil’ fish).

Then some other stuff happened, such as: I met a man named Cannon, he is the best, and we ran away and got married. Sorry, that was not a great recap. You’ll figure it out, you’re smart.

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Ok, so this part of the story is where I wanted to tell you why we got married where we did, and I’ve written and rewritten it about 50 times and I just can’t get comfortable enough with it to share it all. I think it’s just so personal and special (and admittedly a bit crazy) that it’s best kept in my heart and not just flung out there across the internet, you know? So please forgive me for being mostly vague here. I hope you’ll understand.

Rewind to August. Phoenix in August, fun fact, is slightly warmer than a hellhole on the surface of the sun, so we took off to California for a quick escape. We didn’t have any big plans for the day, so Cannon suggested we check out the Griffith Observatory. I had seen it from afar, but had never been there. It’s on the hill east of the Hollywood sign so you can see the back side of it from all over Los Angeles.

(You are thinking, ‘I bet that’s where he was planning to propose yawnboringstory,’ but NO. You are wrong. You’re so sassy sometimes).

We didn’t get engaged there with some magical pre-planned picnic at sunset or anything. It was much weirder (and sweatier) than that. We drove up to the top of the hill and got turned away because the lot was full. Apparently LA only has six parking spots available at any one time, so we had to drive back down the hill and park literally miles away from the observatory. An impromptu hike back up the hill followed.

So it was there, under the glaring sun, panting and sweating heavily, when I finally walked onto the grounds of the Griffith Observatory for the first time in my life and [vague alert] was hit with the most unexpected, most unmistakably profound realization I have ever had.

I just stood there for a long time, completely, totally stunned. It almost felt like an out-of-body experience. Dumbfounded, but overcome with the most peaceful, surreal feeling, right there on the sidewalk surrounded by tourists and day campers and a boyfriend who probably thought I was having a stroke.

I can’t explain it, and I know it sounds 1000% crazy, but I suddenly somehow knew, deep in my bones, that all this time life had secretly been unfolding right on schedule, conspiring all along to bring us both exactly to this point. I saw it so clearly, so perfectly.

(Obviously the universe has a sense of humor. Could there have possibly been a more fitting location for planets to align than an observatory???)

A short time later we ran away to California again.

Did you know that weddings are not permitted at the Griffith Observatory? But elopements are! (That might not be true. We just made some assumptions and went for it).

At 6:00 am on a foggy Saturday in September, we made our way back to the Griffith Observatory, and said our vows, with our photographer acting as our officiant, and a janitor with a ridiculously loud vacuum as our single (uninvited) witness, in a $50 dress and a bouquet I made myself, and it was perfect.

Not long after my divorce, early in 2017, I wrote a list of qualities that would make an ideal partner. I folded it up, stuck it in the back of a notebook and completely forgot all about it.

Then, well over a year later – a month after we were married in fact – a little pink piece of folded paper fell out of that notebook. My wishful-thinking wish-list. Twenty-one qualities, written in green marker. I laughed until I cried. This man is twenty-one for twenty-one.

It would be really lame of me not to recognize this chain of events, and this incredible man landing in my life as what they are: gifts from God to a very undeserving but sincerely grateful daughter.

THE END

Just kidding.

This party is just getting started.

Because guess what else? That incredible man has four kids. And someone else I know has four kids too. It’s me. What I’m saying is we have eight kids. WE HAVE EIGHT KIDS. And it’s extra crazy because all our kids are almost the same ages. So it’s sort of like having three sets of twins. Two 17-year-olds. Two 12-year-olds. Two five-year-olds. And a 10-year-old and a 7-year-old. DID YOU HEAR ME ARE WE CRAZY WHAT ARE WE DOING?! (You can follow our blended family adventures on instagram at @ateam10)

ALSO, we just bought a house to fit this massive family of ten, and we’re about to move in in a few weeks and start fixing it up. Yay! Fun things to share on this blog again.

So yeah. You are all caught up. That is the status of my life. It is 2 million percent different than it was a year ago.

I wish I had some beautifully profound words to wrap all this up, but I’ll just leave you with this: