While the rest of the country is remembering where they were 5 years ago today, I’m remembering where I was 13 years ago, on this day. It was a Saturday and I was in Kansas City, MO. I awoke early and headed to my hairdresser in Overland Park, KS with my soon-to-be stepdaughter. Much to my dismay, it started to rain.

You see, 13 years ago, in the middle of a lovely rose garden (with no back-up plan for rain), I married the man who was, is and always will be the person intended to be my husband. And we blended a family – each bringing our own “starter” group.

It was a glorious day. The rain lasted just long enough to put a glisten on the roses. The sun broke through right before the 10 am ceremony. Our families were all there, as well as several friends and co-workers. My husband was surprised by some childhood friends who showed up unannounced. And of course, there were the darling children. KayKay was 2 years old, and her curly mop of red/auburn hair bounced down the aisle with her chubby little hand embraced by her new sister, W, who had just turned 8. W has beautiful red hair (which we joke comes from my side of the family) and it was braided with flowers, making her look so grown up. She took the responsibility of guiding KayKay down the aisle so seriously. C, who is pictured here with his extremely handsome father, was 12. Looking at him now as a 25-year-old grown up makes it hard to remember the boy he was, except in how much his actions, his compassion, his kind heart reminded me of his father…and he still does to this day. The only thing I can remember about C from that day is how excited he was at his blue patterned cummerbund.

The wedding itself was a celebration the likes of which I had never experienced before. Having been married before, I understood what wedding stress could be like. But on this day, unlike the first time around, the stress of details (even rain) didn’t seem to matter. There was no fleeting moment of “cold feet”, no hesitation, no last-minute panic -- for either of us. I had never been so sure of anything in my whole life. And here I am, 13 years later, still able to say that out of all the decisions I’ve made in my life…marrying my husband is the one RIGHT decision I know I’ve made…hands down….second to none.

Sandra, over on the Older Parents Blog had such a heart-felt tribute to her husband on their recent anniversary that I can’t expect to be able to match that. But I have to tell you that finding the RIGHT mate does make weathering the storms of life much easier.

We met at work. I was drawn to his sense of humor – he was funny and thought I was too. He would send me his daily Far Side calendar in interoffice mail. The other thing I noticed about him was his concern and dedication to his kids. He was always thinking about them, doing things for them, stopping his work day early to prepare to coach soccer, taking his lunch hour to run them to the doctor or pop in over at the school for something they were doing. I admired this greatly, because I worked with so many other fathers who didn’t prioritize their children so highly up the list.

Today he’s still prioritizing the children (not above me, though – tee hee!) Thirteen years ago we had no idea the challenges our lives together would take on. We had the task of blending a family and doing that step-parent dance, and at the time we thought it was enough. I didn’t march into the marriage with some grand plan to adopt, although the groundwork for adopting a child had already been ingrained in my soul. And never in our wildest imagination did we fathom the challenges our adopted child’s special needs would present.

But the two traits that so attracted me to my dear husband are the glue that hold us together now. Our commitment to the children AND our matching sense of humor. Even in the tragedies, the despair, the overwhelming struggles of our lives, we find so much funny. We laugh a lot. We come from families that laugh a lot. We expect our children to have well-developed senses of humor. Even LuLu. And slowly, that’s being cultivated.