I’m not trying to go all Alanis Morissette on you, but isn’t life ironic?

My husband and I just got back from a couple of days away to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. Ten years ago today, on August 23, 1997, at exactly 2:00 PM, at a church not far from here, our marriage ceremony began.

When I think back on our wedding vows, I remember them very clearly. We stated that we would be true to each other, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, until we are parted by death.

Today, on August 23, 2007, at exactly 2:00 PM, at a funeral home not far from here, my Uncle’s calling hours began.

Tonight when I saw my Aunt, who had been married to her husband for 43 years, I couldn’t help but think how lucky I am to have been married to mine for only ten. I can only hope and pray that my Uncle is looking down and helping us on this journey. He obviously knew what he was doing.

I am sitting here at my computer, still drying my eyes after a tough evening at the funeral home. To my Uncle, I love you and I will miss you. To my husband, I love you and I cherish you.

Until we are parted by death.

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My husband and I have notoriously bad vacation luck. A few years ago, during Hurricane Charlie, we were at a hotel in Virginia when it started raining in our room at about 2:00 AM. It had nothing to do with the hurricane though. It was due to the yahoos upstairs who left their shower running, then went out for the evening. I heard one drip coming down near a window, and by the time maintenance got there it was like we were in a downpour. Everything was soaked. We had the displeasure of moving the kids and all the gear that comes with them, to another room in the middle of the night.

During the huge blackout of 2003, we were stranded in a hotel in Cleveland. Not only was there no electricity, but there wasn’t any water either. No ice, no flushable toilets, and no gas in our car to get the heck out of the blackout area. AND, to top it all off with a big, fat cherry on top, our daughter was very, very sick with what we later found out was viral meningitis. Ahhh…good times, good times.

A few months ago, my husband and I were at a hotel in Indiana when an alarm went off at 4:00 AM. We were on the 11th floor, and for an hour we heard this over and over, “There is an emergency in the building. Please stay where you are until you receive further instructions.” I sat on the edge of the bed, with my shoes on, ready to run out the door as soon as that voice told me to do so. Thank goodness, she never did.

A couple of days ago we woke the kids at 5:45 AM for our last family trip of the summer. It started raining halfway into our drive and never stopped. We were supposed to go to an amusement park, but instead we ended up walking around Wal-Mart for hours before we could check into our hotel. Woo hoo!

At about 11:30 that night, my husband and I were watching TV in our hotel room, with the kids sound asleep in the bed next to us, when the electricity went out. A few minutes later a fire truck arrived and parked below our 3rd floor window. I barely had time to picture myself fashioning a ladder made of hotel-room bedsheets before the fire alarm went off. We each grabbed a kid, some warm clothes, and the car keys, and evacuated the building with all the other guests. It was cold, it was raining, it was a nightmare. We sat in our car until 2:30 AM before they let us back into our room.

The ride home yesterday was literally hell and high water. We had to drive at a snails pace to get through the massive amounts of water on the road. But, as we would go through the mini-lakes on that little two-lane road, our daughter would laugh out loud. She thought it was FUN! I was clutching the door, constantly checking that seat belts were fastened, and telling my husband to be careful…and she was laughing.

I suddenly thought about how our son had slept through the entire debacle the night before. Neither one of our kids heard the blaring alarm. And, how my daughter, wearing her Daddy’s big sweatshirt, was perfectly content to lie in his arms in the front seat of the car while there were firefighters running around outside. They had no sense that anything was wrong or that there was anything to worry about. As far as they were concerned, they were safe and sound, and Mommy and Daddy would take care of everything.

And, with that realization, I finally found myself with a smile across my face.

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At the store the other day, while I was looking at face moisturizers, my son asked, “What’s that for?”

I told him it’s for Mommy’s little lines in her face, and that I put lotion on so those lines don’t turn into big wrinkles.

He pointed at the lady standing near us and says, “She needs lotion too.”

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I ran into one of my son’s preschool teachers at the grocery store the other night. It was one of those rare trips to the store where I’m not distracted by two kids, or trying to push one of those semi-truck-carts with the steering wheel that is supposed to keep my son occupied, but never does. My point is, I could actually stop and talk with her. Now, I am not one for small talk. I hate small talk. Especially the awkward, yet inevitable, discussion of weather that is the topic of choice on elevators.

But, this woman….this amazing woman who is a preschool teacher, who is ALWAYS smiling and so happy, and saying how blessed she is, and who, when told the children are lucky to have her replies, “No, I’m lucky to have them“…well, quite frankly she fascinates me. How anyone can spend their day with a roomful of toddlers and pre-kindergartners, without going looney, is really beyond me. AND, she has two children of her own. I find myself looking at her with this weird sense of fascination…part admiration, part freak show. Because, having all those children around her all day, and always having that smile…well, that’s as odd to me as the human blockhead.

So, there we were in the grocery store talking about back to school stuff. I told her that I wasn’t really looking forward to the hustle and bustle of schooldays, but that I would enjoy having my house clean for a few hours a day. She laughed and said, “Oh, you can’t worry about a clean house, because after all, we can’t be Supermoms.” Really? Because, in my eyes she might as well be catching bullets in her teeth and leaping tall buildings in a single bound, and I’m just Jimmy Olsen watching from the sidewalk.

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