Typical conversations in our house

"Do you love me?"

Mike eyes my chest. "Parts of you, yes."

Ahhh . . . . true love.

Making this home

In some ways, this house already feels like home. Because when I picture going home at night, it's here that I picture. And when I feel tired in the mornings and wish that I could crawl back into bed, its our ridiculously huge bedroom that I long for. Slowly, subtly I am making the place ours. I have color swatches tacted to the walls as I attempt to determine which red, green, taupe I like where. I've purchased little bins and trays in an attempt to make myself be more organized ala Dooce. I keep a running list in my head of the rooms, drawers, and shelves that I should be organizing instead of watching tv or playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook.

But I am not going to lie. I kind of keep waiting for the bottom to fall out. A similar (but definitely not at all similar) situation about six years ago turned my world on it's ear and it all started/ended with moving into a new house. While the only familiar player in this sequel is me, I cannot help but notice the occasional ringing in my left ear of déjà vu. Yet Mike is not him and I am not who I was six years ago and this marriage is nothing like that relationship was.

Our second anniversary is quickly approaching and I can look back and say that year two was far more difficult than year one. Year one was a breeze in comparison. While we look around us and see numerous friends' marriages falling apart, we hold each other a little tighter, try to listen a little bit better and speak a little more clearly. I don't want to be a statistic. Or maybe I do; just one of the ones who made it through successfully.

I know without a doubt that this man loves me more than anyone else ever has, aside from my family. I can feel it in every touch and taste it in each kiss. I know that as long as I am willing to keep on keeping on, so will he. He has watched both of his parents marry, divorce, remarry and divorce again. He knew he didn't want that. I see my parents, with their 30th wedding anniversary a week away and know that they are something to aspire to.

Marriages like that are more than just a contract on paper.

Marriages like that are a foundation and walls and fabrics and pictures and everything that makes a house a home. No amount of planting or painting or organizing is going to make this home, because it already is.

Settling down . . .

   Our hallway is littered with empty boxes. You have to nearly brush the wall with your shoulder to get by on your way to our bedroom. Right now, in the living room, three feet before me and between myself and the television sits four packed boxes and another three, also waiting to be filled. I've already taken three massive bags of clothing to Goodwill, though I suspect there will be another trip or two or four before this venture is complete.

   Mike dropped off an early lease termination letter and a money order to the office today. We have till June 30th to pack, clean and vacate our first apartment as a married couple. The apartment I unpacked my wedding china in, filled my drinkware into, got my first dining room table for. 

   We are moving into a house. A home. With a backyard and a door bell and air conditioning. Two car garage! Ice maker! No neighbors living above me, below me or hogging all the open parking in front of us! The excitement is bubbling, but the dread of moving, YET AGAIN, is quelling that excitement at the moment. It is, to say the least, overwhelming.

   I have never made it a secret that I am third generation packrat. A horrible, stifling habit that I am really wanting to break, if possible. I managed to only get my bedroom closet cleaned out and packed yesterday, but that would be because I also was going through everything, creating two piles. One to keep and one to donate. My policy has been to have split second decisions on everything. Keep or get rid of. If I have hesitated, clearly that is nod in the "get rid of" pile. I am hoping that it all goes smoothly in the downsizing of the posessions as we upgrade our living space.

   Ideally, we'd be able to paint and ease on into the new house, come back to the apartment and clean it before the end of the month. This of course, would be in a perfect world, when I don't have to work. So instead, I'll be making the most of my time off of work (you know, in the mornings, evenings and days off) to accomplish as much as I can. The painting will have to wait until after we are moved in.

    But here we are. About to take this step. I knew this year would be magical.

So here is the front, obviously. Not sure how long we'll keep that house color. We are having the siding redone on the sides and back of the house and it may be enough to warrant a complete color change. If not, I'll at least paint the front door.

The living room, entry and a peek into the mud room. The mud room leads into the garage.

The kitchen . . . ahh the kitchen. Bright, open and with an island. I'm thinking red for the walls, as long as it doesn't make the formica look too pink. Yes, formica. Yuck. But that can be changed. The fridge, gas range, dishwasher and stools all come with the house.  

One of the bedrooms . . . most likely to become the guest room/office/my craft room. 

The other bedroom, which will probably become Mike's "Mancave". Sigh. Yes. I married a dork. 

Our bedroom, which is about the size of my dormroom in college. And while two people will again be sharing the space, it is in somewhat different circumstances. Now, we'll be able to have our dressers in the same room with us. Also . . . there's a walk in closet. Walk. Inside. Closet.

Our sweet little backyard. I'll hope to extend the patio by next summer, since we really hope to have plenty of bbqs and get togethers for all our friends. 

I cannot wait. 

Just give me a couple of years to say my prayers

I read once in a novel that if the last thing you said before going to bed on the last night of a month and the first thing you said the following morning were both "Rabbit", you'd be lucky that whole new month. I haven't ever actually tried it (REALLY! I haven't!) but the idea has stuck with me. Despite my lack of participation, I am starting to feel that maybe April is going to be our lucky month.

I cannot begin to share the elation we are feeling tonight at the prospect of this amazing opportunity that is in front of us. I have been praying every single night for the last two months for a windfall of one sort or another and it is finally looking like God is answering. It is so incredible, it can only be a gift from a higher power.

I won't say much because being the silly stupid girl I am, I am fearful of jinxing the situation. But keep your fingers crossed and say little prayers for us. We need a miracle for sure.

Ghosts of Christmases Past

I am joyfully putting up our little tree and Christmas decorations around the apartment, listening to my favorite playlist I threw together last year and just enjoying that it is past boards and I am finally able to focus on the season. And then I come across ornaments from old Christmases, ones my mom gave my ex-boyfriend and I when we were together. It doesn't feel right to toss them and I cannot ignore the fact that they were for Zack and I (because my mom dates and writes names on EVERYTHING. ) and just use them anyway.

What would you do? There is an ornament from the year Nathaniel and I were together, but we didn't write "Betsy and Nathaniel, Christmas 1998" on it. It's just a sweet Cinderella ornament, so it doesn't feel weird to see it hung on my parent's tree. But to hang these on my own tree, in the home I share with my husband? Too far, too bold, too nostalgic.

I guess they'll just be tucked into the bottom of a box, to be forgotten again until next season.

During a commerical break of CSI

Mike: Hey, I finally got to use one of your tidbits of information to answer one of Tim's questions today.

Me: Oh yeah? Which one?

Mike: He asked why when some people sing, they don't have an accent, but then will start talking, they do. I was able to tell him it was because of the creative verus the logical sides of the brain and how one is for language and one is for singing.

Me: Ahh . . . Glad to know I serve more of a purpose now than just sex and baking cookies.

When I took a good look around

You spend far too much time planning your wedding, for as quickly as it flies by. I mean, I feel bad when I spend an hour making a dinner that is eaten in about ten minutes, so you can imagine what spending nearly 11 months planning about a 7 hour party can do. It soars by. You lose track of time and when you hear what time it is, how far into it all you are and how little is left, it is a bit heartbreaking. (of course, there did come a point in the night when it was only 10 pm and we were both exhausted but were determined to spend the rest of the evening at the party). Looking back a year later, here is what I remember of the day.

* I hit the snooze button that morning on my phone. Even on my wedding day, I wanted a few more minutes of sleep.

* I was instructed to wash my hair that morning and blow it dry. Here is a photo I snapped of myself before we took off for the hair appointment.



* The girl at the tanning salon next door (where I had a small account with to even out my tan lines) asked if I would want to pop into the bed after I got my hair done for one last tan before the ceremony. I found that strange.

* Mom and I had bagels at NW Bagel Deli and I remember sitting there wondering if anyone else there knew what an important day it was for me.

* My friend and makeup artist was 45 minutes late to getting there to do my makeup. She kind of copped an attitude with me, but my makeup was beautiful and she did my mom for free too.

* While sitting in the chair getting my makeup done, I saw Lindsay Whareham and Josh Schwartz walk into the mall, probably head down to Macy's to get our wedding gift and leave again. I never called their attention, but would later see them at the wedding.

* Standing in my parents kitchen, somewhat pacing as I ate a ham sandwich about a half hour before I had to leave for the church.

* Text messaging Mike, much to his surprise. He didn't think that he would have any contact with me that day.

* Driving myself, alone, to the church. I got impatient and didn't want to wait any longer for her to get there. When I arrived at the church, there was only one other car there - Mike's. He and his brother were the first ones there. Darrick had to help me bring things in while Mike waited downstairs.

* Using the same restroom at the church I had used all of my life. I grew up that church . . . it's strange how the mundane and the extremely rare and extraordinary can mesh together like that.

* Trying my hardest to get into my Spanx and strapless bra without help. I finally had to call one of the girls into help hook things up correctly.

* Doing what I could to still play "photographer" that day. I managed to snap about seven photos before I realized that it was a moot point. But knowing that I would not be able to snap my own photos of the day did nag at me for quite a while leading up to the wedding.

* All of us girls huddled around the mirror trying to curl our hair, again, since something in the air that day made it impossible for any of us to hold what was originally put in.

* Helping Aja with her eye makeup. I always want my friends to look amazing.

* Having a small heart to heart with Jasmine about the fact that she wasn't going to get a basket of petals to sprinkle down the aisle. Instead, she'd have a pretty bouquet to carry.

* Getting to see Mike for the first time . . . it's one of those moments when time kind of feels like it will stand still forever.

* Jenn coming into the Bride's room to say hello. We were both in tears . . .

* Standing there, waiting for my father to walk me down the aisle, my heart racing with a bittersweet mixture of excitement and anticipation and the realization I wasn't going to be his little girl anymore. I was now going to be someone's wife.

* Walking down the aisle, I only saw Mike and my mother. . . I know other people were there, but those two were the only ones I saw.

* During the first prayer, a renegade tear ran down my face, off the tip of my nose and met my lips. I had one hand in Mike's, the other wrapped through my father's arm and holding my bouquet. I didn't know how to wipe that without disrupting anyone. So I let it stay there till it dried.

* Jumping for joy when the minister announced us as Husband and Wife. Finally.

* Getting into the limo to head to the Hilton . . . it was white and as we slid into the back, the radio was playing Billy Idol's "Love Stinks". I had to laugh.

* Noticing the cake was missing the cake topper I'd spent weeks searching for online. I asked Kate to find out where it was and the next time I looked up, it was there, perfectly in place.

* Sitting there, listening to our brother's, friends and father's toasts, knowing I wouldn't remember them but trying my best to hear what was said well enough to recall something. All I really remember is Kate and Aja mentioning how since we'd all met in high school and hadn't met as young children, I was probably their first friend by choice.

* Dancing with Mike. Him dipping me the first time, beautifully and nearly dropping me on the second dip.

* Dancing with my father and though we'd learned and practiced the waltz together, we never factored in my massive bustle. We had to throw the waltz out the window and just dance as we always do together at weddings.

* My brother being the first to come dance with me during the money dance.

* Running into Jenn and Sarah Steidl in the restroom. I just came in for some air.

* Stopping for a bit and just sitting alone with Mike at the head table. Someone snapped this pic of me as we just relaxed for the moment.



* Dancing with Jasmine. I can remember being little and wanting so desperately for the bride at any wedding we went to, to pay attention to me. If Jasmine was feeling anything like that, I wanted to fulfill that dream for her.

* Going with Mike up to our room, still in the heels I'd worn all evening. I never changed into my extra shoes. Those last few steps were a struggle, but I made it.

* Falling asleep next to my husband, the first of thousands of nights to come.

The Beginning of the celebrating

Our first two anniversary cards in the mail - from my brother and one from my parents.



Andre's and Sunny D. Klassy mimosas.



A small gift from Mom

Eleven

One month to go until we celebrate our one year anniversary. Mike has already told me that he is planning something pretty sweet for the day (or evening - who knows. It's a Monday this year.) Of course, I have no ideas of what to get him for a gift. None, whatsoever. Neither paper nor clocks provide any help into what I could possibly get him as a first anniversary gift that says "Thanks for marrying me and still thinking/feeling it was the best decision you've ever made. I feel the same way."


Traditional                  Modern
1st - Paper                  Clocks
2nd - Cotton                China
3rd - Leather               Crystal/Glass
4th - Fruit/Flowers       Appliances 
5th - Wood                 Silverware
6th - Candy/Iron         Wood
7th - Wool/ copper      Desksets
8th - Bronze Pottery     Linen/Lace
9th - Pottery/ Willow    Leather
10th - Tin/Aluminum     Diamonds

Before anyone suggests a wristwatch, he already has a nice one that my parents got him for Christmas. And paper . . . well I have no idea what kind of paper he could utilize.

The only thing I can think of is a new and improved wedding band. His original was the ring from The Lord of the Rings, not because I am that big of a fan but because he is a pretty big fan and it was the only ring that he could get excited about. But since the day we said "I do" it's been a poor choice. Great conversation starter, but a poor choice otherwise. The ring was sterling silver dipped in gold, so you could see the elvish written on it. The gold version came in one size and Mike was positive it would fit. It doesn't. It's too big. So for the first year of our marriage, he's been wearing his wedding ring on his middle finger. Also, by a month into wedded bliss, the gold had pretty much scratched off and now . . . well, you can't tell that it once had the elvish on the outside of the band.

This is what I have in mind to get him:



It's a Tungsten Carbon Fiber ring with a comfort fit, which a friend recommended to me. I need to take Mike to the jeweler to let him pick one out, but I like that the tungsten is scratch-proof. I think this one may be too embellished for him.

Anyone got any suggestions??? Ideas?

Definitely NOT PTA approved

My husband sits beside me, having both his side and my side of a conversation for me, since I am obviously far more interested in blogs and Myspace to participate in it myself. Tail end of the conversation . . .

"So now was that really worth all my explaining or should you just take your shirt off?"

Clearly I have not been paying enough attention to him in the last few days.

All too typical

"Baby, you really need to get up so I can put sheets on the bed." My husband lays face down on a naked mattress.

He groans. "Can't we do that tomorrow night?"