So, we’re married!
You’d think that alone would have been cause for me to return to my blogging ways, but as it turns out, I took that particular story to another blog. Since my zeal for blogging has been on a downward trajectory for years, I wasn’t sure I’d continue on here. But, as it turns out, I am not totally out of Very Important Things To Say.
In which case, let’s catch up.
I haven’t posted in a year. Here’s what happened:
We Got Engaged:
For me, being engaged was incredible. No one really tells you this; all you really hear about is how hard and stressful it is to plan a wedding. And I suppose that’s true, but being engaged is also just completely tops. There was always something to look forward to! Nearly every month there was a major happy event: a bridal shower, an engagement party, multiple visits home to New Hampshire, a visit from my mom and sister to take me dress shopping, a trip with my folks to meet Jon’s parents in New Jersey. Bountiful phone calls with family and friends, hours spent curled up reading Martha Stewart Weddings, stealing ideas from other brides and envisioning the day. Stuffing envelopes with my fiance and being completely grateful that he wanted to be so involved, because I sure as hell couldn’t have done it alone.
I ate it up. Along with everything else, apparently, which might explain why I am the only bride in all history to not drop a dress size or two prior to the big day.
(Whoooooops, I forgot to get skinny. Oh well. I can state with certainty that had I been able to force myself into something resembling in shape in time for my wedding, our engagement would have been approximately 63% less fun. And who wants that?)
We Got Married:
Again, just see here. Pictures, my thoughts on the day, some touchy-feely treacle. Whole nine yards.
Also, this was our first dance song, and I think it sums up my feelings, which is why I cribbed the lyric for my post title.
We Went To Hawaii:
Our honeymoon; well, I cannot do it justice. Should you ever have the opportunity to spend almost two weeks (or any time at all, really) in Hawaii, just do it. Kauai was jaw-dropping. Honolulu was bustling. The North Shore is a place I’d like to return and spend more time (if only for the shave ice, because hello? Delicious.). Even the parts that weren’t so great were great. I didn’t care much for Oahu, but it still had some of my favorite parts of the trip, like seeking out local eateries (tater tot nachos, anyone?), watching surfers, and visiting “LOST” filming locations in a giant Hummer. Just go.
I Got A New Job:
This part happened at the exact same time as the wedding and honeymoon, and yet it still managed to be a fairly seamless transition. This is probably due to my new gig being pretty awesome. Want to talk about business? Find me here.
If you’ll allow me another musical indulgence, at my wedding I walked down the aisle to this ditty from “UP!” How I made it down the aisle without bursting into tears is beyond me.
The biggest lesson I’ve taken from four months of marriage (four months today actually!) is that changing your name is a massive pain, the unsolicited uterus inquiries begin the moment you say “I do,” and that I was all wrong to be so worried about my parents fighting when I was a kid.
For reals, married people fight. And it’s completely, totally, fine. Sometimes it’s even fun. I kind of want to smack my 8 year-old self upside the head for being such a weenie, especially when you factor in that my parents didn’t even fight that much, if you really think about it. And that their marriage is and always has been terrific, even with the occasional war of words.
But when you’re a little kid, and you hear your parents yelling downstairs at night (when you’re supposed to be sleeping but are actually huddled up next to the not-so-bright glow of your alarm clock hoping it will cast enough light onto your Sweet Valley High book that you can get through the chapter and find out whether or not Elizabeth and Todd are like, broken up for real this time), it’s completely traumatic. It’s omgtheyaregettingdivorcedtomorrow!
I remember one time when my parents were bickering, my sister tearfully asking from the back seat of Ye Olde Minivan whether or not they were getting divorced. My mom’s completely exasperated reply: “If you ask me that one more time, I swear I’m going to just go out and do it!”
Granted, this is not a nice thing to say to your tearful young daughter. Then again, my sister was always a bit melodramatic and I’m pretty sure she asked this question every time my parents had so much as a minor disagreement. Which is just ridiculous. The way I figure, in the absence of deep problems that require more serious attention, most things married people fight about are completely inane. Here’s a sampling of things we’ve fought about, in fights ranging from the minor gripe to the door-slamming, silent-treatment giving, storming out of the house for a cool-off, yell-fest. And you’d be surprised about which is which:
Things We’ve Fought About Since The Wedding:
The toilet seat (duh)
Toilet paper (what is it with the toilet, right?)
The kitty litter box*
Thank you cards
Modern Warfare (ha!)
Using military time
There is no need for you to know the details of these fights, of course. I just have been reflecting on a couple of my parents’ especially big barn burners from my childhood (including one that resulted in a dented sauce pan that turned into a beloved family artifact that I can’t believe I sold, along with all my other pots and pans, in a moving sale a couple years back), and truly understanding how something so silly (in the case of the sauce pan, I believe it was a family fire drill that went awry) can turn into a screaming match.
In short, when you love someone that much and live with them for long enough, somehow a discussion about the family smoke detector can turn into a five alarm fire, if you’ll forgive the terrible metaphor.
So mom, if you’re reading this, forgive me for being such a weenie. I’m sure my kids will take their revenge by asking me, repeatedly, whether we are getting divorced every time Jon and I snark at each other over changing that damn toilet paper roll.
*We managed to solve this one in an epic win of Marital Negotiation: as long as the toilet seat remains down, dealing with the litter box will never be a Husbandly Duty. Should the toilet seat find its way up on any given day? The very next day said husband will be on Scooping Patrol. So far he that toilet seat has been down every. single. day.
**An illustration of how having a king size bed really doesn’t solve the problem of needing lots of space to stretch out in: