I guess I should give a little background on our "story". Let me step back and introduce myself:
I'm Jenn. 26 years old. I work in Construction. And those who know me are shocked.
I'm married to Brandon. 36 years old (cradle-robber). Real-estate attorney and entrepreneur.
Our daughter is Dylan. Named after Bob Dylan (yeah, I lost that argument). 2 years old. Crazy cute and sassy as hell.
When Brandon and I met it was not love at first sight. I thought he was a big nerd (which he is) and he thought I was young and flighty (which I was). Neither of us was in any hurry to jump into anything serious.
But after a few short months of him "throwing some game" my way, we exchanged a libation-induced New Years Eve kiss that changed our lives.
Apparently he was a darn good kisser. And from that developed a real, honest-to-God relationship. A pretty damn incredible relationship, too.
Fast forward one year and that "can't keep our hands to ourselves" chemistry produced a baby. (who knew.) After a crazy, throw-stilettos-at-the-walls, hormonal 9 months, out popped a little girl that changed our lives all over again.
And now here we are. Loving this crazy life that we almost didn't have.
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