My mom sent Pete and me an anniversary card, which I received Friday. I didn't open it because, number one, our anniversary was on Saturday the 13th and not Friday the 12th, and I'm a stickler for only opening cards and gifts on the actual date being celebrated; and, number two, Pete was out of town and it seemed inappropriate to open an anniversary card without the spouse around.
Saturday morning, I said to Pete, "Happy anniversary! I won't buy you a card if you won't buy me one." He said, "Oh, no. Your mom must have forgotten our anniversary, too." [I'd not yet shown him the card.]
Now, why would he say such a thing? Because the only way we've ever known it's our anniversary, except for maybe the first year or two, is because my mom religiously remembers the big day. We get that card in the mail, and we are so on it to get each other a card and gift.
We teased the kids about not remembering our anniversary. The two younger ones were crestfallen that they'd not gotten us anything and immediately took to the table with paper, markers, glue sticks and pom-pom thingies to make us cards. Eldest just kind of shrugged. Too old to be making any cards, you know. Not too old, however, to join with the others in encouraging us to all go out to celebrate. [We didn't.]
You want to hear the punchline of all this? I talked to my mom this morning. I told her about our non-celebration on Saturday. Guess what? Our anniversary is today, the 17th, not the 13th. My mom knew. She has it in her address book. She keeps track of these things. She even challenged me to check my wedding certificate. I said I believed her. [And then secretly checked anyway. Not really. I didn't check. I do believe her.]
When I called Pete to wish him another happy anniversary, he mentioned that he hadn't really thought the 13th sounded right, but since I said it was...
Is it any wonder we finally got hitched, two children into our relationship? Want to read last year's ode to him? It's right here.