06/23/2015 02:37 pm ET Updated Dec 06, 2017

"I Do"- Over

Shutterstock / Karen Grigoryan

Last night, the hubs was helping my daughter fry up some fresh fish that they had just caught together at the lake. We'll just say that the kitchen is NOT hubby's forte and they were calling me in for back up. As he was heating the oil in the frying pan he asked how he could tell if it was hot enough. I quickly got a drop of water on my finger and let it fall into the pan. There was a slight sizzle but not the hopping red hot oil sizzle that you wait for before throwing your fish in the pan. In his ignorance he asked me how to tell the difference between the sizzles. Fumbling for a way to translate it into his male brain, I blurted out the first analogy that came to mind.

"It's like the way our relationship used to sound- not what it's like now!!"

For a moment we both stared at each other in shock at what I had just said and then we burst out laughing. He corrected me that after three children, our relationship doesn't sound like sizzling oil at all. In fact, it sounds more like a sad trumpet.

This got me thinking. What would our wedding vows look like now after 8 years and 3 children together? I'm thinking they'd go something like this...

I, Ashford, take you, Hubs, to me my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; till death do us part.

I promise to stay up with you through bouts of food poisoning (which you somehow manage to get at least every three months) and to even drive to the pharmacy at 3 am to get you anti-nausea suppositories despite my "big day" at work the next day.

I promise to watch "Wicked Tuna," "Gold Rush: Alaska," and every single season of Motocross races. I will try to feign interest. I will make tailgate food for every televised Clemson football game. And I will make my famous "Ham Sammies" for every poker night.

I vow to cook you a pot roast every year on your birthday and to cut back on trying to serve you things like kale and quinoa (Furthermore I apologize for my foray into "Meatless Mondays" with that tofu chili that you so graciously choked down). I will choke down your biscuits and gravy and will cease to make vomit noises while you cook potato soup.

I promise to resist the urge to smother you with my pillow as you lay snoring next to me when I get up for the fifth time with the crying baby. I promise to clean up all the "poo-tashrophes" if you will in turn promise to always clean up the dog vomit.

I vow to always present a united front to the children even while I am screaming inside my head "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!?!" I will always have your back (even though I might talk behind it sometimes).

I promise to remind you of your father's birthday year after year and to be the one in charge of organizing family get togethers. I will also make sure to send Christmas gifts to your brother and baby gifts to all of your cousins.

I promise to be your sounding board and to always talk you out of the really stupid ideas. I will always be honest with you. (Whether or not you want me to.)

I promise to always make time for you even when I feel like there's no time for me.

I promise to love you even when I hate you and I promise to remember why I married you every time I feel like leaving you.

I promise to hold on to the glimpses I get of the boy I fell in love with and to remember the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I will always remember what it felt like to hold your hand as I gave birth to our daughter. And our son. And our other son. In the worst times I will remember that I wanted no one but you in those moments.

But most of all I promise I will be here. In all of these things. In the sickness, the health, the richer (if someday we get there), the poorer, the better and the worse.

All my love.