Sometime this morning it came into my mind that I haven't told the story of us. The story of how we met, fell in love and started our life. I thought today, on the anniversary of our first date (nine years ago) I would share my version of the story of us. I regret that I don't have Scott's story documented. I'll try to add in the pieces he would always add in whenever this story was regaled.
And so it begins,
I had just started a new job and was told to "call Scott at Northwest and arrange to get this stuff over here." So that's what I did. Our first phone call wasn't just the brief, in passing, type. I introduce myself, inquired about how his day was and instead of the usual "Fine. Thanks." I got a real answer. I wish I could remember the answer but I cannot. I do remember that when he inquired about my day I knew he meant it. He really wanted to know. He wasn't just being polite like I had just been. And so it begun.
For weeks, there were reasons to call "Scott at Northwest". Sometimes I made them up, other times I was actually doing my job. Every time we talked I learned something new. Not a girl to let things happen slowly, I made it very clear that I was single, dating and really hating most of the guys I had met recently. I hinted, pushed, nudged, and stopped just short of skywriting "Ask me out Dumbass."
This is the part of the story where Scott would interject and say "I didn't want to be pushy. You seemed so nice."
Then finally, one day, Scott had reason to come to my office. I was ready. Killer dress, fab heels, hair and make-up done, not the typical attire for a construction office. The moment I saw him through the glass door I knew it. I knew I needed him. He was exactly what I had pictured. What I had imagined. Exactly what I wanted and needed.
Sadly, he came in, greeted me with a polite handshake, dropped off the few items and left. He would tell you that he decided I was to pretty for him to ask out but I never bought that. I thought he was just chicken.
We returned to our conversations. Talking longer and longer each time. After a particularly long weekend where I became so frustrated by the choices in front of me, I laid it on the line. My line was something cheesy like "I could never find a good guy like you to go out with." That was it, he finally got the hint and asked me out.
I couldn't wait! He suggested waiting two weeks, you know that wasn't going to fly and so I suggested two days later. I always did get my way. I finally had it, my date with "Scott from Northwest". Dragging Sere to the mall, we scoured every store (a few of them twice) to find the perfect outfit.
Date night finally arrived. Scott arrived promptly, met my parents and stood waiting for me at the top of the stairs when I finally gathered myself together enough to emerge from my residence in the parents' basement. He and my dad were laughing about something, I have no idea what, but in that moment, I looked at him and knew. That was it. I was done.
Jumping in his truck, we were off to Port Barrington. We closed the doors to the truck and it began. The incessant talking. For the next eight hours we didn't shut up. We talked tv, we talked, family, we talked sports, politics, money, children. We talked about everything and nothing.
We talked so much that the waitress, as the kitchen was getting ready to close at 10 (we got there at 630), finally asked if we wanted her to order for us. Hastily we both chose a dish. I don't remember what we ate, though I know Scott didn't have pasta because as I would find out a short time later, the poor boy had no idea how to properly eat spaghetti and he didn't want to embarrass himself.
We talked as we walked out the door hours later, both forgetting about the bar bill. I didn't know this either until sometime later. Scott felt so awful, he went back the next day and took care of the bill and left a huge tip. Always, the good guy.
Driving back to my parents, we talked. Yup, more talking. We sat outside my parents house and talked until the wee hours of the morning. He told me about losing his mom and his sister. He assured me the doctors said he didn't have VEDS. It didn't matter. Already, it didn't matter.
I got out of the car that night without a kiss. I reached across the truck and scored a hug but Scott, the gentleman didn't even attempt a first date kiss.
I went to bed that night thinking that the man of my dreams thought of me like a kid sister. Turns out Scott went to bed that night thinking "Did I really just meet my future wife?".
The post date phone call late Sunday afternoon went something like Him-"We should do that again some time." Me - "That would be awesome." Him - "How's next weekend?" Me - "I don't really want to wait that long how about Tuesday?" Him - "That would be great."
The second date Cubs game. I've shared the hot dog story from the game. But what you don't know is that we joked on the way down to the game, sitting in bumper to bumper Chicago traffic just outside O'Hare airport, I said "Screw the game let's fly to Vegas." Scott's response "And get married."
There was a pause in the truck. As we both thought about if we could actually just fly off and get married. No thoughts of "I just met this person I shouldn't do that." Just thoughts of "People would really think I was crazy." In the end it was the disappointment that my mom would feel in not seeing her only daughter get married that kept up from jumping on the next flight out of town.
That second date finally ended with a kiss. He asked for permission first.
And off we went. We were inseparable. Spending all our time together. Going on adventures. Enjoying life.
Christmas Eve of that year, we got our first major punch. Scott called from the Emergency Room. He was in incredible pain and wasn't going to make it to Christmas eve dinner. Dropping everything I rushed to be with him. It was in that room that we first heard "we think you have Vascular Ehlers-Danlos." We had only been dating 3months. Scott had a right leg aneurysm and the level 2 trauma center needed to move him immediately to a level 1. Christmas Eve night was spent flying down the road in an ambulance. Snow, apprehension, worry, flying around us.
Christmas morning, my mom took one look at me and said "Go to him." Nothing else mattered. I didn't care about stockings, presents, dinner. I just wanted my Scott.
Scott told me before his first angio, right after the doctor told us he would be lucky to be alive at the end of the day, Scott looked me right in the eyes and said "you can go." I didn't. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I never regretted it. Not even for a minute.
From that first storm to the last moment, we were together. We will always be together.
Photo compliments of Kara Schultz.
Read more...
I'm coming out of the closet... I like Easter! Like, really like it. It's all bright and springy. This year even the weather got the "be awesome!" memo.
Kate is at the perfect age for Easter fun. There were far fewer broken eggs this time.
Speaking of dyed eggs... We colored these with kool-aid! They came out awesome and didn't stink up the house.
*this is Minnie, she belongs to my parents *
My dad is a nut. He felt the need to "re-use" the kool-aid and made himself a drink. He obviously wasn't paying attention when we mixed one entire packet of kool-aid with 2/3cups water to dye the eggs in. For those of you a bit rusty in your kool-aid making, it's one packet of water a cup of sugar and a pitcher of water. Sigh... Only my dad!
Minnie still loves him.
Kate worked so hard on her eggs. Sitting and sounding out everyone's names and making each family member their own egg.
That night while we were talking to Daddy before bed, she apologized to him for forgetting to make him an egg. I assured her that Daddy didn't mind.
I love that she still thinks to incorporate him into her daily life. I wonder at which point she'll have fewer memories with him then without him. Where did her mind start making lasting conscious memories? Was it when she was two? Has she already formed more without him then with him? Will she forget all the memories she has now? Hell, I can't remember what I went into the kitchen for 10 minutes ago. What does she remember and for how long?
Back to Easter....
We tried a new place for brunch this year. My only criteria for the restaurant was that they had an Easter bunny. Kate just loves the bunny!
We got the bunny and we got a real treat for brunch. I loved the food and it was a nice, relaxed environment. I don't know about the rest of the family but I want to go back next year.
Throughly stuffed, we headed home for Kate's Easter egg hunt and basket opening. I can't decide if Kate would want some consigns to join her in the egg hunting fun or if she would hate sharing.
A quiet afternoon of couch lounging, sports watching and Lego building.
I can think of a lot worse ways to spend the day....
A few people have asked if I'm going to keep blogging. The truth is I never really quit writing I just quit posting. I needed to find my voice again. I needed to feel confident in how I was moving forward so when the inevitable Internet idiot would email me garbage about all the things I was doing wrong I could easily tell them to "shove it". I needed to find my stride, my mojo, my identity.
This place needs work. It no longer feels like me. I'll be fixing that. This place is my way to show Kate (and myself) just how far we've come. Were still building, life is nothing if not a work in progress but it's a progress worth sharing, even if it is just for me.
