My dearest husband,

Happy Anniversary! I’d like to take this time to congratulate you on one year of marriage. Ordinarily, I’d spend this time musing about how wonderful you are and how amazing you’ve been to me during all of our time together (and don’t worry, we’ll get to that soon enough), but, first things first, I’d like to apologize!

Hear me out: truthfully, as much as I say it when I’m feeling pouty or frustrated, I don’t really think I’m a horrible wife. (mostly)

I know that 1/2 of the reason our marriage has been going so well is because of the effort that I put in to making you feel as loved as I do. However, I am not arrogant enough to neglect the fact that I am also, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, an asshole. For that, I am sorry.

• I’m sorry that I’m often anti-social and that it’s super difficult to get me to go out on most weeknights.
• I’m sorry that I (almost) never walk the dog; even though he really needs to be walked and I get home before you.
• I’m sorry that I sometimes lie to your face about walking the dog; we both know I’m lying, but I just don’t want to see that look of disappointment in your eyes when you know you gotta go back out into the cold and walk the dog.
• I’m sorry that (on a semi-related note) I never take out the trash/recycling.
• I’m sorry that I always go behind your back and fix the throw pillows after you make the bed; maybe you like them that way? Maybe I should lighten up about their order & appearance? Maybe I should let the pillows be who they want to be?
• I’m sorry that I used beef broth in the mushroom stew during vegetarian week  last week. It might be my fault that you got that mini flare up in your foot. It was an oversight on my part, and instead of confessing I buried the evidence in the trash…which you later threw out, whilst limping on your not so good foot.
• I’m sorry for how loudly I sing in the bathtub on Sunday nights. I like to pretend that bath time is literally ME time, meaning no one else exists. I will reexamine my process here.
• I’m sorry for how forgetful I am after bottomless mimosa brunch.
• I’m sorry for bottomless mimosa brunch.
• I’m sorry for consistently eating cheesecake even though I know FULL WELL how sick and uncomfortable it makes me.
• I’m sorry for literally being that wife that never knows what she wants to eat, tells you you can pick, and then rejects all of your ideas. I’d like to think this is unintentional, but somewhere deep down, I think I know what I want to eat. I just need you to feel like you were part of that choice. I will reexamine my process here as well.
• I’m sorry for my hormones and subsequent mood swings. I don’t deserve you.
• I’m sorry that I cook and eat sprouts at least 1x per week. I kind of thought I’d be out of this phase by now, but it might be here to stay?
• I’m sorry that I don’t always share my sprouts (or ice cream, cheesecake, French fries, chocolate, or gummy bears).
• I’m sorry  that I never let you pick the movie. I promise it isn’t intentional, but it occurred me that (9 times out of 10) we see things I suggest. I’m pretty film savvy, but every Ebert needs their Siskel.
• I’m sorry that I’ve missed more than one outing or important event due to getting my hair done.
• I’m sorry for how often I complain about work.
• I’m sorry for how often I complain about complaining about work.
• I’m sorry for how often I complain about complaining about work while continuing to complain about work.
• I’m sorry I give you a hard time for having more PTO than me; you’re one of the hardest workers I know and you deserve every second of downtime. I’m just jealous, you know?
• I’m sorry that I  pop out of hiding & scare the daylights out of you for my own amusement.
• I’m sorry that you do all of the heavy lifting and assembling when we move or buy something new online.
• I’m sorry that I always call you to come help me bring in the groceries (see previous apology, as this is directly related to heavy lifting)
• I’m sorry that I forget to hug you when you come home from work sometimes.
• I’m sorry that I continue to watch police/crime dramas even though they make me deathly paranoid about getting murdered.
• I’m sorry that I wake you up on mornings where you should be sleeping in. I try not to, I hold out for as long as I can, but I want someone to hang out with and the dog likes to sleep more than we do!
• I’m sorry for always wanting to binge watch random tv shows on the couch.
• I’m sorry that I secretly steal your moisturizer when I’m out of my own.
• I’m sorry that I almost never want breakfast on Saturday/Sunday morning (unless it’s bottomless mimosa brunch… and we already talked about that).
• I’m sorry for never buying you pizza rolls or taquitos from the store. It’s bad for you, but I could lighten up.
• I’m sorry I’m so crazy about money.
• I’m sorry I’m so (w)reckless about my cosmetic purchases.
• I’m sorry for how often I drop, spill, and break things. Mama doesn’t call me Grace for nothing!
• I’m sorry for all the times I snapped, neglected, or overlooked.
• I’m sorry for the moments of frustration out of guilt.
• I’m sorry for the times when I should have tried harder, done better, or pushed further.
• I’m sorry for when I’m demanding, bratty, or overbearing.

Despite every single one of my shortcomings (and I think we all know I was going easy on myself with this list*wink*), this year has truly been one of the best of my life. I love how much we’ve done, how close we’ve become, and how much fun we have simply existing in the same space together.  I love our weekly traditions, our inside jokes, and the way we try to keep each other first no matter what. I love how hard you work on yourself so you can be better for “us”. I love how you’re not afraid to follow my lead when you need to. I love how you take the lead when you need to. I love the memories we’ve created. I love the home we’ve built. I love how we talk about and think about the future. I love that you let me be myself, despite how “unique” I am. I love how weird we are in public. More than anything, I love that after 5 years of dating, 3 years of cohabitating, and 1 year of marriage, people still catch you looking at me like I’m the only girl in the world. Cheers to one year of wedded bliss, my love. You are my perfection and I can’t wait to see what year two has in store; I promise I will try to be less of an asshole this round. 😉

Until Next Year,

Carry on Hubby!

Love,

Your Mrs. B

🙂 ❤