The invitation didn’t say “child-free wedding.”

So we booked our flights, our hotel, and a rental car with a car seat, thinking: “Who wouldn’t want Archer at their wedding?”

By the time we realized he’d been quietly added to the “Forbidden List”—probably due to one too many milk-drunk outbursts or his habit of loudly negotiating with goldfish crackers in public—it was too late. Plans were made. Travel was locked in.

And so, when the big day rolled around, Caitlyn and I adjusted. She stayed back at the Best Western in Hood River with our tornado of a toddler, while I put on my suit, kissed them both goodbye, and strutted off toward the wedding venue feeling 2% guilty… and 98% like I was about to reenact every early 2000s Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn wedding montage.

For me, this wasn’t just a wedding—it was temporary freedom. A chance to wear something not covered in fruit and veggie pouches, have adult conversations that didn’t grunt and squeak interpretations, and maybe even eat an hors d’oeuvre without shari

But back at the hotel, Caitlyn was doing the real work.

She wasn’t “relaxing.” Not unless you consider trying to reason with a two-year-old about why they can’t bring 18 sticks into a restaurant or throw a half-full water bottle across the room “relaxing.”

While I was sipping my second cocktail and pretending I remembered how to small talk, Caitlyn and Archer were out hiking. Not a gentle hotel-path stroll. I’m talking a three-mile round trip to a park—with toddler legs, snack breaks, a backpack full of emergency crackers, and likely at least one moment where only cheese could save the day.

After the hike, they refueled at the hotel restaurant. Archer ordered a cheeseburger, probably declared the fries “too crunchy” by throwing them on the floor, and definitely commandeered most of Caitlyn’s pasta while narrating the entire meal in his personal language of sound effects and gibberish.

Meanwhile, I was four vodka-sodas deep, surrounded by laughter and people catching up, but slowly realizing:

This isn’t where my heart is tonight.


I started checking my phone, not for Instagram notifications or sports scores, but to see if Caitlyn had sent another photo. A park bench. A big grin. Her tired smile. Those were the moments I didn’t want to miss.

The wedding itself? Of course it was beautiful. There was dancing. Emotional speeches. Candlelight. One of those signature cocktails with way too much rosemary. At one point, I stepped outside and looked at the mountains and the river under the stars—and thought:

Caitlyn would love this.

When I stumbled back into our hotel room at 1am—knocking on the door because I was too tipsy to remember my key was in my jacket pocket—I was greeted by a still-awake Caitlyn, clearly not thrilled.

She looked at me with that tired, you-owe-me-big-time expression and said:

“Glad you had fun. We’re going to the brunch and then the Air and Auto Museum tomorrow. Be ready by 9.”

I was not ready.

However, promises were made... So I was up and, frankly, ready to go back to bed by the time we got to the brunch buffet.


Caitlyn and Archer, on the other hand? They bounced through the morning like Disney characters mid-musical number. I shuffled behind them like a man doing an impression of a functioning adult.

But you know what? We went. And it was awesome.

Archer lost his mind over the airplanes and the antique cars. Caitlyn lit up every time he pointed something out with that wide-eyed wonder only a toddler can summon. At one point he ran as fast as he could towards me because he was excited to show me a car he found.

We were sitting in these chairs watching these tube TVs show footage of old airplanes. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed down, ensuring that I sat down next to him to watch. I had one of those moments where everything slowed down and I just took it all in and I thought: This is what matters. Watching the joy on Archer’s face as he discovers new moments in this fleeting world.

So yep, I wore a suit and she wore the hiking shoes. Like always—she did the hard thing so I could have the easy night. That’s love. That’s partnership. That’s parenting. And when it’s her turn, I will gladly put on those hiking shoes and take Archer on an adventure.