We met at camp and it was love at first sight… well, for one of us. The other one was just trying to figure out where the snacks were and why this guy kept staring at me like a Disney character discovering romance.

Neither of us had any idea what the future would hold, and yet here we are — two unhinged humans doing our best to function like adults while the universe watches with popcorn.

We’re the kind of friends who joke around, pull pranks, and keep things light because, frankly, if we ever took life seriously, the whole operation would collapse. We thrive in chaos. We are chaos.

My mother has told me my whole life, “Marry your best friend.” Eventually, I caved. Fine, Mom. I’ll marry the man who has seen me at my most feral — hair in a bun that looks like it survived a natural disaster, holding power tools I absolutely should not be trusted with — and still chooses to stay.

So now I’m marrying my bestest buddy — the guy who tolerates my spontaneous game inventions, my “let’s do a pallet project” moment, as it lasts only a moment and I am on to the next ,"Great Idea". He watches me march through the house with a drill like I’m about to lead a home‑renovation uprising, hiding with the drill and acting like I'm a sniper.

He smiles at me, tells me he loves me and says "Game on" taking over the entire project. I know he's cringing inside thinking she's a walking disaster (I'm extremely accident prone-ESPECIALLY with Pallets!) But I would rather think its out of undying Love and the want need and desire to make me happy.

But as much nonsense I provide this man, he does the same Graciously in return.

His Pillow talk- Oh, it’s legendary — mostly because he’s asleep for all of it. But even unconscious, he is committed. This man will, in a dead sleep, attempt to hand me hot chocolate like a malfunctioning butler robot. Not just a cup — no. He will try to craft it. Half‑awake, eyes closed, mumbling, he’ll shuffle toward the kitchen like a zombie barista determined to deliver ice cold cocoa to the love of his life, without marshmallows! UGH! No Marshmallows??

Sometimes he hands me an invisible mug. Sometimes he hands me the TV Remote. Once he handed me one of my Chickens and whispered, “Careful, it’s hot.” The dedication is unmatched.

And then there’s Bella — the 10‑year‑old supervisor, foreman, and tiny chaos commander. She watches everything with the intensity of a raccoon guarding a trash can buffet. She’s always supervising, always judging, always ready to remind us that she is the true CEO of this household. If we’re the circus, she’s the ringmaster with a whistle and zero fear.

At the end of the day, we laugh, we love, and Bella ensures the entire operation stays just chaotic enough to be fun but not chaotic enough to require insurance claims or Emergency room visits!