It’s that time of year again, you guys! Our anniversary. When against all odds, we wake up, shower, dress, get our asses to City Hall, and ask a stranger to take a photo of us kissing, without our children falling off the podium.

Here we have 2017. Errol is five and Ned is three.

Here is 2016. Errol is four, Ned is two and REALLY into it.

Here is 2015. Ned is one, Errol is three. That dress is from Topshop. Where the hell did I put that dress.

Here is 2014. Errol is two and Ned is three months.

NB Ned was a horrendous small baby. See that look of myopic distrust? That is EVERY one of his baby photos. At about nine months he became the smiley little bruiser you know and love, but as a newborn, yeah, he was horrendous. (In fairness to him, he had silent reflux and couldn’t eat without being in pain so was hungry all the time, but WHATEVER Ned, SHEESH.) I don’t know how I managed to finish my last book with him as a newborn, especially with Errol as a toddler and Fox away for work more than half the time, as well as write a spec script and my first movie rewrite gig because I was trying to transition into screenwriting, but I did, and I have a feeling that I was an obsessive nightmare to be around. I will also have a very very high opinion of myself forever more because of it. (Kidding!) (Maybe.)

Here is 2013. Errol is just over a year and a half. He had hair like a newborn chick for a very, very long time. I was superfuckingblond at this point in my life. It almost made me bald. Avoid peroxide, kids.

Here is 2012. Errol is about eight months old.

Here is 2010, our wedding day.

We got married here in NYC, even though we were living in London at the time, because why not. And 2011 is missing as we were living in Zurich for the year for Fox’s job, and I was three months pregnant, so it would have been a photo of me puking and snarling at Fox.

At some point I will figure out how to resize all these photos to be even. Maybe by 2020.