Today Dan and I have been married for 5 years.

If you’re wondering what five years of marriage looks like it starts with being woken up at 5:49am by two toddlers, yelling at them for an hour and 15 minutes to put their socks on, before being late to work, and then leaving early to pick up your valium-high husband and drive him to his vasectomy.

Happy anniversary to us.

The funny thing is, it feels kind of romantic.

Dan is always so sweet when he’s on drugs, and letting someone take a knife to your balls to save your bank account marriage from additional minions is actually pretty valiant.

I mean when you compare it to growing a small human inside your stomach and then having it ripped out your hoo-ha and stuck on your boobs for 12 months it’s actually not that valiant but if I’ve learned anything over these last 5 years it’s that marriage is all about taking what you can get.

And I’ll take it.

These last 5 years have been filled with maximum craziness. Two houses, three cars, four job changes, two babies, 2475687789 diapers, and a lot of arguing about what happened to all the money in our bank account.

It’s hard most of the time. Because we are in the trenches. Of kids, of growing up, of barely getting by.

But we are getting by, together. Sometimes with one of us on the couch (Dan) and other in the king-sized bed (me). And often in a car with no AC and an overdue oil change. But we always manage to move forward, to let go, and to laugh about how screwed we are raising two little girls that are EXACTLY. LIKE. US. The good and the bad.

The day-to-day craziness often feels overwhelming. But when the girls are asleep in their bed, a small sliver of light from the hallway illuminating their rosy cheeks and sinewy limbs, resting amid a mountain of baby dolls and little golden books – I feel just how lucky we are. How beautiful this life is.

Two healthy, strong girls. A roof over our heads and walls shaped and painted with our own hands. Friends to lean on, jobs we can depend on, acres of wilderness to get lost in. And a partner who lays his head next to mine every single night (except football nights) and is willing to overlook the number of days I never change out of my yoga pants with a hole in the crotch.

Marriage is messy. It’s 1% sexy and 97% comfy and 2% mad as hell. Our marriage is far from perfect, but, you know, I’ll take it.