Writing my own love story

The cookie he made for me.

Playing with the bugness.

Not so long ago, I was shocked (to say the least) when a man who is truly more perfect for me than I have any right to expect or deserve asked me to marry him.

I thought he was kidding. He wasn't.
I thought he was just swept away by his own spontaneity. Turns out, he had been planning it for a while.
I thought he'd come to his senses before I had a chance to accept. He didn't.

And now I have the honor and excitement of sharing a life with someone who is, simply put, one of the most amazing men I have ever known. He's honest. He's kind. He's giving. He's genuine. He's open-minded and accepting. He knows who he is. He's a wonderful father to four adorable boys. He loves Riley and is really good with her (even when I want to leave her in Home Depot for the night). He's in possession of a strong work ethic and is responsible and grounded. He's exactly what I want for myself and then some, because he's hilarious and easy to be around and, may I just say, beyond gorgeous (seriously...I still get a little jittery when I first see him after a few days).

To say I am happy is an understatement.
To say I am overwhelmed is downplaying it.
To say I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but I'm jumping in with both feet, letting it wash over me and seeing what comes up....that's just about right.

There are still a lot of details to work out, a lot of things to work through, and a lot of bridges to cross. But having someone to take your hand and work with you through all those details and walk with you across those bridges...it's pretty much the best feeling there is.