Two.

Today is our second anniversary. If time could crawl and travel at the speed of light simultaneously, that is how I would describe the past two years of marriage. 

The first year of marriage was by no means the big bad wolf of matrimony that many forewarned; but I have to say that the second year became increasingly easier as we figured each other out. 

I was a selfish 25-year-old who ate cereal for supper and spent my evenings watching Criminal Minds and staying up half the night thinking someone was going to kill me. I was plucked from this routine and transplanted into a home where I was expected to figure out this "wife" gig. I had moments of utter failure; I had moments where I cheered for myself for completing the most mundane of tasks (Cooking three things at once-- what, what?!)

Here are a few things that have changed for us from Year 1 to Year 2.

Year One: You think your life is over when you receive your first dental bill. 

Year Two: In the span of two weeks, you fork up $3800 for an AC unit and $500 for a new truck part. Your refrigerator conks out the next day, oozing melted strawberries from the freezer. In front of your spouse, you yell at your other appliances, "Just go ahead. Die. Just die. You know you want to!" You laugh, grab the credit card, and head to Tucker's Appliance. 

Year One: You take a picture of your first grocery store loot, proud that you've stayed under budget. 

Year Two: You sign up for a Sam's membership with the enthusiasm of a child at Disney World. A 250-pack of toilet paper ensures that you will never have to deal with a spouse hollering at you mid-squat to run to Walgreen's for them. And don't even get Justin started on the barrel of cheese balls.  

Year One: You run out and get a gym membership so you won't "let yourselves go."

Year Two: One day, when you're lying in bed, you will realize that every area on your body that you poke jiggles. You'll start doing fitness games on your XBOX Kinect and scare your dogs half to death every time your feet leave the ground. 

Year One: You get into at least one fight concerning holiday traditions and dividing time between families. 

Year Two: The Mission Impossible theme song pumps through your brains as you work together to complete as many tasks as possible in one weekend. Victory isn't in winning more time with your respective family anymore; it's in having breakfast, lunch, supper and birthday cake in 6 different locations.

Year One: You will NEVER get a dog. Like ever.

Year Two: You have two dogs and buy them something every time you're at the store. You hang off the side of the bed every night to ensure they are in the exact sleeping spot they desire. 

Year One: You pretend to like things you don't like. 

Year Two: You have to witness the "Has everything this whole time been a lie?" expression that comes when you finally admit that you don't care for Thai food. Sorry, babe. Pad Thai = big fat lie.

What a year this has been. New jobs, lay-offs, appliance revolts, puppies. But through it all, I have felt more like a team this year than two stubborn individuals living together in a house. 

Happy Anniversary, Justin. Here's to puppy love and new refrigerators.