Kathleen's Blog

14 Years. 5,113 Days. And Approximately 10,000 Conversations About “What Do You Want for Dinner?”
Fourteen years ago today, I looked into Jay’s eyes and said, “I do.”

What I didn’t fully understand at the time was that this was essentially a lifetime contract to share snacks, surrender the TV remote at critical moments, and gracefully forfeit approximately 87% of the mattress. Love is beautiful. Love is generous. Love is apparently very comfortable sleeping on the edge.

No one warns you that marriage is mostly two people standing in the kitchen at 6:14 p.m. asking each other “What do you want for dinner?” in an increasingly tense game of chicken until someone breaks and orders DoorDash like a conquering hero.

Somewhere between the “Is the dishwasher clean or dirty?” standoffs and the ongoing mystery of who, exactly, let the dogs out, we learned the important stuff. We figured out how to fight fair. How to forgive fast. How to laugh when life gets loud — or when I’m verbally processing at a volume that suggests I’m addressing a packed auditorium.

There’s something powerful about having a person who knows your stress tells, recognizes your “I need a snack immediately” face, understands that sometimes the only cure is a well-organized spreadsheet — and still chooses to stay in the room.

In fourteen years, this man has survived what I casually refer to as “Quick Questions,” which allegedly take two minutes but somehow require a twelve-tab Excel workbook and conditional formatting for clarity. He has also endured The “Great Reorg“, my annual initiative to reposition the entire house three inches to the left in pursuit of better “flow.” He has mastered “Time Dilations“, meaning he understands that when I say, “I’ll be ready in five minutes,” it is more of a philosophical estimate than a timestamp. And he has earned a black belt in “The Nod & Smile,” the advanced marital skill of supportively nodding while I think out loud for three consecutive hours.

That isn’t just love. That is endurance training at an Olympic level.

Fourteen years later, here we are. We’ve grown up together. We’ve weathered storms and celebrated wins. We’ve built something steady — something that doesn’t wobble, even when life does.

If the first fourteen years are any indication, the next chapter is going to be even better. We’re wiser now. Calmer. Deeply committed to earlier bedtimes. Truly unstoppable.

Jay, thank you for choosing me every single day. You are — and will always be — my favorite human.

Happy 14th Anniversary.