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Today marks the 8th anniversary of our wedding. A lot has happened in the last 8 years. 2 kids, 5 cars, 1 mortgage, 3 cats, 6 jobs (between the two of us), and the stupid Red Sox have even won a championship. I’ve spent a good part of the day just thinking about what has happened since May of 1997. And, with the exception of the Red Sox winning the World Series, it’s been a great 8 years.

This 8th anniversary of our wedding finds my wife and I 775 miles apart (according to Mapquest). On Saturday I decided I would do something sweet on our anniversary. So this morning, after I was sure the kids were awake, I called my wife at her parents’ house to wish her a happy anniversary. How thoughtful of me! We had decided to delay the official celebration until after she gets home next week.

So I go through my day thinking I’m some thoughtful person and wonderful husband until I get home and find not one, but two anniversary cards from my wife in the mail. TWO! Of course, that means she had to think to do it on Saturday. So we had the idea at the same time, but mine turned out to be a little less impressive.

But I guess that’s what marriage is all about…us men thinking we are something special before we are slapped in the face with the reality that all of us married out of our league. I guess it’s possible that somewhere there’s some guy who is better than the girl he married, but I’ve thought through all of my friends, and I can’t think of anybody who fits that description.

Or maybe I am something special. After all, it’s been 8 years, and she hasn’t killed me…yet.