Poems: A good marriage is...

I realize I haven't posted in over a month. I also realize that this probably amounts to about 6.7 lightyears in the blogging world.

I've been wanting to share this poem for a while. Someone slipped it into one of our wedding cards and it now hangs on our fridge, where I often re-read it. I don't know where it came from or who the author is, and a Google search for her name was largely unsuccessful. Apologies to any un-married readers, as it speaks exclusively about marriage- however every time I read it, it strikes me how true it is. Let's see if you other married folks agree:


A Good Marriage is:

A solemn, binding wink.


A hand to hold, on the dark path.


A look that explodes into laughter.


Two heads on one pillow.


Chili without grease floating on the top.


Knowing the lipstick on his shirt is yours.


Knowing the glow she has is from your kiss.


Overlooking apple cores in ashtrays, socks draped on door knobs, doors slamming and words that shouldn't have been said.


Warming sunshine, when the chill winds of misfortune blow across your path


When you stumble, a hand under your elbow.


A fragile thread of discovering love, soon woven 
into a garment of irreplaceable comfort.


The solid bulk of him to lean into.


The shimmering heat of her,


A light in the window.


Going one more mile.


Knowing when you reach- you will touch.


Bed Talk.


A fresh breeze, scattering the storm clouds.


Hearing the pride in his voice when he says,
"I'd like you to meet my wife."


Giving it all you've got, every minute of every day,
to keep that pride in his voice.


Saying "Hello, I'm here, I'm yours," with only a glance.
For always, in all ways.


Remembering a good man any day is hard to find.


Remembering a little tenderness and blarney go a long way.


When she says, "I listen for your whistle coming up the walk, it's the best sound of the day.
Instead of: "What! Are you home already!"


When he says, "You're all woman now, no girl could have your beauty."
Instead of: "Why don't you try dyeing your hair, or something?"


Never saying, "If I had married Harry..."


Never telling her, "I wish you'd married Harry..."
-PADDY NOYES

I am in the Army.

The title of my blog has changed.

Did you notice?

During the past year my blog has evolved from a place where I vent about my day, to a place where I share my opinions, to a place where I keep my family updated on happenings in my life from afar... I feel like my blog should reflect me and where I am on my life-journey. The fact is that right now, my life is more about supporting The Lieutenant than it is about being the care-free, shoe-loving, shop-a-lot, 20-something that I may have been in the past. And I'm OK with that.
In fact, I kind of like it.

Hence, the addition to my blog title.

This week I attended an Army Family Team Building Class. Basically it's a class to inform spouses and help them be better prepared to support their service-members. But the Army likes to give things long and complicated names so that they can then turn them into acronyms. Therefore instead of Family Class we get AFTB Class. Isn't that just the government for you...?

But I digress.

During the class I learned at least one revolutionary thing.

I am in the Army.

No, I haven't decided to enlist... but nevertheless I am in. See, the Lieutenant chose the Army. He promised to support and defend the United States Constitution against all enemies. But I chose The Lieutenant.

For all you math students out there, this is the transitive property of equality.

I guess I just never thought of it this way before but when it comes down to it, I chose the Army.
And by marrying The Lieutenant, I am in it.
This realization seems revolutionary to me, because it allows me to truly be a part of things, instead of being on the outside looking in. It's all of the difference between being on a ride of your own accord or being dragged along against your will.

Because if I'm in it with him
then it becomes OUR journey,
instead of a trip I never wanted or planned for.

And only then can I truly become a partner in the ride.

Marriage Lessons (A post on newlywed life)

I have returned from what might be considered a leave of absence for personal health. A period of personal adjustment and change. AKA: I got married at the end of October and fell off the face of the earth for quite a few weeks. Let's just say that I needed the time to get adjusted. After our huge, beautiful, ridiculously fun wedding- see collage below- I moved to North Carolina with The Lieutenant and we're now co-existing (mostly peacefully) as newlyweds. There are things that marriage has already taught me. For instance, no matter how well you know a person, you will never be able to predict whether or not they will wipe the dried toothpaste out of the sink until you actually live together. 

I would have to say that one of the biggest personal realizations that I have had since saying the big "I Do" is simply how difficult it is to be wrong 50% of the time. You see, I generally like to be correct, however I have found that in marriage disagreements are rarely solved by pointing out the other person's flaws (believe me, I tried this method). It is important to share the blame. 

I suck at this, but I'm working on it.

I have often thought since our wedding day how much things have changed in our relationship in such a short time. Six months ago I was accustomed to going weeks without seeing The Lieutenant, and now it's strange when we have to spend even one night away from each other. 

Here's another thing I've learned: marriage is by far the hardest thing I've ever done in my life

but it's also the best.

For Whom the Bell Tolls (a post On Weddings)

I'm a pretty practical person. I am thrifty and I like a bargain. I like things to make sense and for decisions to be logical. I don't like massive shows of emotion. They make me uncomfortable.

BUT

In 65 days I will put on an expensive ivory dress that I will wear one time only. I will spend hours getting primped and I will finally walk down the aisle to become The Lieutenant's wife. The celebration has taken 8 months to plan but will last only a couple of hours

...and I'm super excited.

So what is it about this wedding that throws my usual practicality out the window and causes me to become a person who cries without warning and maintains a countdown in my head? I guess I've got a romantic side.

But the thing is, my countdown is not really about the wedding. It's about what comes after. It's about having someone who loves me enough to want me around for forever. It's about knowing that person will always be there because he is dependable and trustworthy. It's about knowing that even though things will not be perfect, they will always be OK because whatever happens, we will work it out together. To me, THAT'S romantic.

And I, for one, can't wait.

On Marriage: Being Slippers

I’ve come to the conclusion that the thing I fear most about getting married is the slippers.

Let me explain.

In the beginning my relationship with The Lieutenant, I was a pair of high heels. In comparing myself to a pair of footwear, I don’t mean to say that I always wore high heels (in fact for a person of such meager stature, I rarely do). What I mean is that the “me” that I most often portrayed was put-together. Heels are almost always slipped on when you are just about ready to walk out the door- after your hair has been fixed and your makeup is pristine. Heels never see you just out of bed, or sick with the flu, or covered in flour in the kitchen. You wear your heels when you are at your best. And so I was a pair of high heels.

Within the first year, I began to find that although being a pair of high heels is nice, there are times when it becomes very impractical. It is impossible, for instance, to be a pair of high heels when you are frolicking in the snow or playing tennis. As our relationship has progressed it has become more and more frequent for The Lieutenant to see a "me" that is still fun, but in a more practical way. And I am ok with being a pair of tennis shoes or a set of ski boots because these also have their use.


What I fear most about getting married is becoming a pair of slippers. Slippers are not glamorous or sexy. They are not even useful or practical. They are comfortable. This is not always a bad thing. Slippers keep your feet warm. Sometimes, when you’ve been walking around as a pair of high heels all day long, you can’t wait to get home and just be a pair of slippers.

The Lieutenant doesn’t mind my being a pair of slippers sometimes. In fact, I think he would be a little put off if I was always a pair of high heels. He says that it doesn't matter.

He says that I’m beautiful. Period.

But I still fear becoming a pair of slippers. More than that, I fear losing what it feels like to be a pair of high heels in the dirty dishes and baby poo of the years to come. I fear that even when I leave the slipper-me at home, I’ll look out of place as a pair of high heels.

On Bride-zilla

I'm engaged

Bouncing around with my head in the clouds and a smile on my face, I've been in a state of happy euphoria for about a week now; a state that has only been broken a few times. Usually these breaks come as a result of un-sought and unneeded advice.

"You know, it takes between 8-12 months to plan a wedding."

"You should really look for a wedding dress that is..."

"You know, it's traditional for the bride to..."

and my personal favorite:

"Have you thought about waiting?"

What is it about major life decisions that makes people instantly think you are in need of their ideas and opinions? (My very pregnant friend confirms that this phenomenon only intensifies when bearing children is the issue at hand) Although opinions may be expressed out of a desire for my well-being, it is overwhelming to be bombarded with all this advice and worldly wisdom.

This constant flow of advice has given me a new perspective on the term "Bridezilla." Perhaps a Bridezilla is not, as we always thought, a self-centered diva who must have everything her own way. Perhaps Bridezilla was nicknamed so for refusing the "helpful" advice given by those who bombarded  her with their ideas of what her wedding should be.

I feel for her.