A Really “Shitty” Proposal…

For reasons unknown to me, my husband seems to cringe just a little when I mention my blog.  I’m not sure what he thinks is going to happen on here, if I’m going to rant on about things he does to get on my nerves, or what, but that just isn’t the intention of my space.  Entries are most likely going to include my husband and my children, because they are my everyday life…naturally they are always on my mind.  With that being said, I would like to let my husband know (since he claims he doesn’t read this and I know for a fact he does, since he outed himself on that one : )) that if I am going to complain about you, I’m gonna do it to your face, my dear! You should know that by now! Haha..I love you.

So begins the story of how we got to were we are…the shortened version.

Never, in a million years, did I think that I would fall in love and marry that boy I’ve known since third grade.  It’s funny to think about this now, because our youngest daughter just passed third grade and is identical to him when he was that age…well, with a little more hair of course!  With our last names starting with the same letter, from third grade on, we were always seated next to each other in classes that we had together and our lockers were always right next to each other.  Looking back now, we always had some sort of daily interaction, whether it meant anything or not.

Being the shy and quiet type..yes, believe it or not, I was a shy and quiet kid..I never really had too much to say to him, besides the random pleasantries in class or at our lockers.  We had different groups of friends, so it wasn’t like we hung out either, and I wasn’t the type to go up and start a random conversation back then.  I wasn’t going to read more into a smile or a wave in the hallways and then get laughed at!  So, needless to say, we never dated in school.

Anyway, after we graduated, my mom had told me on numerous occasions, that she had seen him at the grocery store and he always asked how I was doing, what I was up to, and to say “hi” to me.  I just kinda let it go..told her that that was nice of him and to tell him I said “hi” the next time she seen him.  No biggie, he was a nice guy!  On my birthday, in 1999, I had been having sort a rough patch and my brother and I and a friend of ours went out.  It wasn’t really all that common for me to hang out with my brother, but soon we would apparently be sharing some more mutual friends. We went shopping and on our way back into town, we stopped by the farm at which this guy and the friend who was with us’, dad worked. (<- if that is proper grammar?!)  This would turn out to be a great place to go if you were into “minor-drinking-yourself-into-an-oblivion” on a regular basis!  While he and our friends dad were milking the cows, the three of us sat and chatted in the “office” a.k.a. an extremely filthy room with a desk, love seat, the magic fridge full of beer, cow anti-biotics, and other questionable cow related substances! OH…and we can’t leave out the life size cardboard cut out of Dale Sr! That would be a crime!  I have to admit that I felt a little weird being there since 1.) I didn’t really drink and this is apparently what we were there for..2.) It reeked of cow shit and sour milk – me the lactose intolerant one is not fond of any dairy smells or the overwhelming scent of feces, but you get used to that where we live ..3.) I am the only female present, which I normally don’t have a problem with, besides the four legged ladies in the other room with machines hooked to their udders..and 4.) This guy is spending more time in the office, grabbing/slamming beers and staring at me, rather than playing with cow nipples like he should be!  Not used to being checked out like that, I was a little intimidated!  By the time we were getting ready to head out, I figured he must be pretty hammered, because he asked if he could take me out on Thursday night (in two days).  Knowing enough about him to know that he wasn’t some serial ax murderer, and my dad knew his dad-I think I forgot to mention that they worked at the same place, I agreed.  Words from my brothers mouth that night were “You break Bubba’s heart, I’ll kick your ass.”  No pressure, right?!

First date..October 28, 1999. Yes, I actually remember a lot of dates, especially specific, significant ones.  We went to the Outback.  I found that he was pretty cool, easy to talk to, we had quite a bit in common and he was obviously hungry…I’m pretty positive that until that day I had never seen someone take down a steak like that! (conquering a pot roast sized steak in record time has not changed!)  We caught up on what we had been doing since high school and he took me home.  Best part of the night?  He didn’t make any moves on me! Yes, he was a true gentleman…that night!  We started seeing more of each other in the next few weeks and I was really starting to have some feelings for him.  All seemed kind of quick, but it really did seem like we had known each other forever and we got along well.

December of that year we found our first apartment.  This would be the first time either one of us has been out “on our own”.  First apartments turn into party central and the cops being called quite often…Whether it’s because your neighbor has to be up early and we are playing darts and keeping him awake, or the fact that the farm truck, “Old Blue”, did not have a muffler, it sat idling in the driveway at a little before four every morning and the driver has a lead foot! I was not really aware of these unspoken rules at the time, but I wasn’t opposed to them either!  Miraculously enough, we were both able to make it to work on time everyday and pay bills…I finally felt like an adult!  January of 2000, rolls around and I’m at home waiting for him to get off work.  This is could be anytime late evening, depending on the stock in the parlors magic fridge. This specific date I don’t remember, but I know it was somewhere around the second week in January.  He is home a little earlier than I thought he would be and one of his friends is there from out of town waiting for him, too.  Mind you, he never smells nice when he comes home from the farm.  He comes in the door from the garage to the kitchen and asks me to come there.  We haven’t been together too long, but long enough for me to give him some crap and tell him “no”!  He gets a serious look on his face and asks again, so I go over.  Crossing my arms over my chest and asking what the hell his deal is, he’s dropping to his knees in the middle of the doorway.  He has a bad knee, this is cement, and he’s slightly wobbly already…I ask “what in the hell are you doing?”  Not expecting the next 10 minutes, at all!  Still in his cow shit covered coveralls and boots, he pops up on one knee and takes out a box.  He starts in on how much he loves me and blah, blah, blah (due to the blood rushing in my ears, I don’t remember very much of the actual conversation-lol) he opens the box and asks me to marry him! WHAT?! Yep, my jaw falls right to where his knee is, I have insta-tears, I hug him, grab the box, run upstairs, call my mom, run back down the stairs and leave…with out a coherent sentence and with out an answer!  Upon returning from my parents, he asks if I have an answer, and I said “I thought that was pretty obvious!”  I guess maybe the theatrics of the situation may have confused the guy a little!

There is the story of The “Shitty” Proposal, for those of you who never knew! It’s not that he wasn’t sweet about it, I just call it that since he was literally covered in cow shit!  Five minutes to remove the articles of clothing were not to be wasted!  Things didn’t necessarily work out exactly as we had planned, but everything happens for a reason and we are still together, 12 years and two kids later!  I wouldn’t change a thing.  I am still very much in love with my Bubba…even if he does purposely get on my nerves…and still comes home smelling like sour milk! : )

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