He's just like my mom

As we grow up, girls always hear that when they grow up, they'll marry a man just like their father. Apparently, I misunderstood.

I'm marrying my mother.

I'd always been amazed by the similarities between my Sweetie-Pie and my mom. They're both dreamy, big-hearted, artists with a love of comfort and beauty. Neither is that concerned with chocolate. Both are incredibly generous, going out their way to help friends and family members. Both have arguable taste in loved ones. My dad? Ummmn, not exactly a hunk. And me? Bossy and gassy. I don’t know how anybody fell in love with me, let alone an amazing guy like Sweetie-Pie. He's obviously a gem.

The fact that his sparkling facets matched many of my mother's was cute, but not concerning. Until one day I came home and discovered Sweetie-Pie had purchased 23 boxes of breakfast cereal.

Yes, *23* boxes.

That's when I knew it had happened. I had found the one man on the planet who actually was just like my mother.

My mom grew up Mormon and once she got married, spent the next twenty-five years of her life living in remote areas. Having a full pantry wasn't just mandated by religion anymore: it was a survival skill.

Visiting my mom is heavenly. Whatever you could possibly want to eat, she can whip up a version of it using canned or frozen ingredients. From fruit salad to gravy to cake, she's got you covered.

And now we're starting to shape up our pantry, too. We're not quite to Mom's level, but after I introduced Sweetie-Pie to the wonders of Disaster Preparedness, he became a conscientious stock-piler of all things caloric. Right now if disaster broke out, we'd be set for about three days of tasty eating (a reasonable amount). After that, we'd be reduced to catching rainwater to cook our quinoa, filling up on canned green beans.

I hope it never comes to that. My fingers are firmly crossed that if disaster unfolds, an east-bound road is clear enough for us to drive to my parents' house. I'm pretty sure nothing short of a direct nuclear blast would stop Mom from baking some kind of pie.