I love that movie. It’s one of my favorite ones. I haven’t been able to watch our collective favorite for fear that something terrible might happen. Like I might get struck by lightening. Or it might start raining from my eyeballs.

Oh, but I was a princess. And I was a bride. He allowed Melissa to be Melissa, which is a fairly formidable task. Emotions running wild like a toddler discovering how freeing it is to run the neighborhood stark nekkid. Wondering when he’d be home from his fancy schmancy firm job to help me with the five minions who called me mommy.

He treated me like a princess. And he was my prince. I put my career as a lawyer on hold, choosing to pop out babies left and right, bake bread from scratch, cloth diaper our kidlets, and make dinner just about every night. I learned to do all things domestic, make the meals he loved, with enough for leftovers so his coworkers would be jealous of what a seemingly perfect home life and home wife he had.

It was fairly close to perfect, factoring in five kids in 8 1/2 years with little shut-eye but lots of love. We were a family. In fact, in his own words, we were building an empire. And what better leader for this empire than my husband, funny as anything and healthy as a horse. Only when things got bad, I couldn’t just shoot him and put him out of his cancer-induced opiate-numbing pain. I had to watch, dispense, pray, and cry. Over and over again. Day after day.

For years.

Published by Melissa

Welcome to the web’s millionth blog. I’m the world’s okay-est mom, I hate coffee, and I have a ton of kids that are kind of cute. Oh, I have no husband since he decided to permanently move upstairs. So that makes me a widow, too. Grab a glass of wine, and join me while we travel this most interesting life.

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