When I decided that I didn’t want a wedding band stealing the glory of my gorgeous engagement ring, let’s face it; I just wasn’t think long-term. Like, how was I supposed to know babies and diamonds do not mix?

Babies, and all of their poop, goop, spit-up, dirt and boogers have NO PLACE in the hands of a diamond-donning lady. Am I right?

Soooo. This year I told Jim I needed just the most basic wedding band he could find. since wearing my engagement ring has now been postponed until I’m, I don’t know, 96.

He got me this perfect ring and I could not be more satisfied. No place to trap poop! Ever the romantic, I will lovingly refer to it from here on as my Beater Ring.

But Jim? Now he’s the true romantic. You see, he had the inside engraved with his very own fingerprint. And we are still trying to decipher what this actually means. I’ve got his fingerprint wrapped around my finger? He’s got a finger on me? He’s not letting me slip through his finger?

Well, no matter, it is romantic, even if it is just a beater.