We went to Buzz’s 15th high school reunion last weekend.  I consoled myself by telling him repeatedly that he was so significantly older than me and pointing out how I would only be celebrating my tenth reunion and making him tell me I was young and thin and pretty.

He really enjoyed that part. He loves being married to me. I’m so low maintenance.

We had gone to his tenth reunion as well, approximately fifteen minutes after we started dating. It was…awkward. I was 23, halfway through graduate school but kind of a mom? But not really. And we kept having to explain who I was and all the long complicated difficult tragic things along the road that led to me being there scarfing down hors d’oeuvres and overpriced wine at the cash bar.

(Can I just say? I hate cash bars at places your are forced to socialize. It defeats the purpose.)

Anyway. Not fun. Buzz went to an boys school, so most of his classmates weren’t married with children yet at 28, and even those that were I had very little in common with because that was the summer of living out of my car and not having a real life anywhere. I slept in my own for like an hour and a half at a time and then spent the rest of my time crying in a basement forty five minutes away. So romantic. Just what every girl dreams of. *sigh*

ANYWAY AGAIN. It was weird. But this time, we’ve been married for four years, have two kids, and I am a legit and verifiable mom in every way that counts including the fact that the size dress I wore last time is a long and distant memory.

(Ah. H&M. Those halcyon days of youth.)

It was hilarious. There was a joint Mass at the beginning of the evening, so I got a chance to judge the members of other classes as well as Buzz’s. Pretty much everybody older than his class was looking pretty good. Wealthy, tanned, rested. Kids old enough to sleep through the night. Wives that look like they’ve seen a gym this year. Straightened hair, pretty wraps, all that.

The boys from the class of 2006 (my class, I would like to point out) were also pretty peppy- rested, smiling, faces unhaggard by stress, wearing melon-colored board shorts and popped collars unironically. So youthful and no one has had dead spouses or fights about where to go for Christmas yet.

And then Buzz’s class. We’re not old…but we’re not young. We’re all married and that’s awesome but it means we’re definitely not in dating shape anymore. Ain’t nobody shopping at H&M if you know what I mean. We all have little kids. Which is wonderful. But exhausting. I had the same conversation with everyone- “Oh! How many kids? Two girls. Awesome. We have a six year old girl and a three year old boy. Bedtime, right?” And I legitimately enjoyed each conversation BECAUSE THAT IS MY LIFE AND I LOVE THAT YOU UNDERSTAND IT PEOPLE OF MARQUETTE. COME LET’S GO EAT MORE TACOS.

We’re not making major donations to the school; we’re still slogging through our own student loans. And I’m pretty sure our party wrapped up the earliest because everybody had to get home and most had to get at least two children up and to church in the morning. (Catholic schools ftw!)

It was eye opening. We are not the chipper bright happy 2006 grads anymore (even though again, I would like to point out I graduated in 2006.) We’re tired and stressed with kids who don’t sleep and have problems that we feel unequipped to deal with. We’re pretty far in our careers but probably still feel like we’re faking it most of the time. We can’t imagine having kids old enough to attend high school and the thought of such a day, where they can get in and out of the car by themselves and we can run into the grocery alone fills us with dread and wonder.

It’s a weird time. But having gone through the even weirder time five years ago, I’m super happy that I’m married to my best friend and raising children that are exhausting because I care so much about getting them to adulthood. That’s pretty cool.




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