Sometimes, I admit, I forget about how wonderful I really have it.

I get bogged down with how annoying she can be, or how angry she gets sometimes, or the names she calls me or the ways it always seems like I'm wrong in an argument. How she never screws the cap on the milk or ketchup back completely or leaves her underwear all over the place or leaves her hair on the shower wall all neatly wound up or... and or... and or.

I could go on all about the negative aspects of her.

And trust me, you could too. Once you've found the one you love, it won't take long for that blissful fairy-tale image of them to be replaced by their own fecal scent as they crap right next to you while you brush your teeth.

But when I look back on our story towards marriage, I cannot help but smile and want to be around her and love her. Because for the longest time, I didn't have her.

My father became the pastor of a church in Twin Oaks, Oklahoma when I was only a year and a half old, leaving Mobile, Alabama behind.

I don't remember when I first met my wife. We were probably just under two years old. And my memory doesn't involve actual accounts or events. Just images.

And one is of my wife, from maybe Easter? Like in a little white dress with little white shoes and a basket full of eggs and candy. I just remember her being so dark with such long hair. And so Beautiful.

If you can't tell, this is going to have to be more than one post. I could seriously write a book about it (I have thought of it before). But if you all like it, and it gets enough views, I'll keep writing.

Enough to say that me and my wife met when we were just little kids, made it through so much adversity, and are still kicking tale together- now as parents with a toddler and another on the way.

That's crazy, man.