Introducing Brandon

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I had actually thought about introducing my children first, as this blog is mainly about them. But then I would have started with Lilly because she's my oldest, and we have already talked about her in length. So it occurred to me that none of my children would be here without my husband.

I met Brandon when I was 13. (That means that I have known my husband for half my life, plus one year. PUT THE CALCULATOR AWAY. That makes me 27. ) We both went to Elk Ridge Middle School in West Jordan Utah. I was an akward, skin-and-bones girl with a ponytail and braces. Brandon was loud, mysterious, impossible to read, and he was, seemingly, oblivious to me. I remember, he was hanging out with a couple of friends of mine, and they all walked into my class room. I was sitting cross legged on my desk in Mr. Cottrell's creative writing class. On Brandon's arm, was another girl- marble skin and water colored eyes with hair like stick straight cream. It would take me years to figure out that she was his little sister. The pang of jealousy I first felt was pointless. (Hey, in my own defense, they look nothing alike. In fact, when we all go somewhere new together, and Brandon is introduced to someone, they automatically shake my Sister in Law's hand next and say something along the likes of "This must be the wife!"- because honestly, I DO look more like him than she does.)

I only saw Brandon a few times that year. He was a grade older than I was, and in Junior High, the grades mixed a lot less than they do in High School. Still, I asked him to dance once at a chruch youth dance. I don't think he looked at me in the eyes even once. Most of my old memories are of him wearing jeans, an untucked dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And flat caps. He always wears flat caps.

We met again when I was in 10th grade. It was also a creative writing class. Brandon was on the crew for our school's Literary Magazine. He used to sit like some sort of warm gargoyle on top of the tallest cabinet in the room, and whenever the office aide would walk in, he would drop himself in front of her without any warning. It was a good thing that our professor was patient. He lost a lot of office aides to Brandon's immaturity.

On one of the first several days into the class, I wrote a quiet insult to one of the Lit Mag crew members on the white board. To my undying surprise, they all found it intelligent enough to call me their friend. From that point on, Brandon and I were best friends, and though I swore to my mother on many occasions (with her rolling her eyes at me each time) that I would marry that boy someday, (Yes. I'm a stalker. But he played me. On purpose.) we didn't actually date at all until after his LDS mission to Kingston, Jamaica.

My parents said they knew I was gone by the time we went on our first date.

I was married when I was 21 in the Salt Lake Temple- a feisty, snotty, punky, blue haired little thing with an adoring, 'good mormon boy' husband. I daresay we keep each other sane. I corrupted him a lot. He keeps me in line. I don't think there's anyone in the world who could put up with me like he can. LOL. I seem to be a pretty big handful.

Brandon spent nearly 4 years active duty in the United States Air Force. We have lived in New Jersey (A spectacular place) and Alabama (Essentially Hell.) Now he spends one weekend a month and two weeks a year writing stories as a Public Affairs Specialist here in Utah where our families are. And one day, a very very long time from now, he'll be a pediatrician. Of course, by the time that is over, we won't have any pediatrics in our house.

Haha. Ha. You think I'm kidding...