It was not in my original plan to write about my one year anniversary because I figured it might be bit too heavy on the cheese for my second blog post. But… in the end, I decided I’d go ahead and do it anyway because it is our first anniversary and it is my blog and I kind of do want to write a little something about it… So, that being said, this won’t be too excessively cheesy. I promise.
So first things first… To keep the confusion down, I’m actually writing this on Sunday, August 06, 2017. The reason I am writing about my first anniversary rather than actually spending it with my husband is because he is a firefighter and it just so happens that he is at work today… Wonderful timing, isn’t it?
Anyway, let me begin by saying that if the first year is supposed to be the hardest, then we are in for a picnic of a life because it’s been a pretty darn good year. Despite being warned of the inevitable fights we would likely be having in this first year, I can honestly say that we haven’t really fought about anything much at all. But then again, in our four(ish) years of having known each other, we’ve never really had a major fight about anything, so… *Note: It definitely pays to be with someone who shares your core values. If your core values are compatible, you’ll find that there’s really not all that much worth fighting over.
Now that I’ve given my two cents worth of unsolicited advice for which you are so very welcome, I have to be honest.
While this first year has been a good one, it hasn’t necessarily been easy.
Let me just say… When the oldest of five marries the only child, there are bound to be some hurdles. Like when I get home from work and just need twenty minutes of alone time and my husband thinks it’s a good idea to poke and tickle and annoy me until I get so wound up I want to say a few special choice words. Or when I go to a big family gathering and get overwhelmed because. oh. my. word. at. all. the. people. #help
You know. Little adjustments like that.
The good thing about it, though, is that we’ve been able to learn from each other while simultaneously driving each other insane.
It really is all good. He’s learning to give me my alone time and I am learning to love big family gatherings. Win-win, right?
Now, for the fun. It wouldn’t be a very interesting post about the first year of marriage if I didn’t take a moment to share a few of the memories my husband and I reminisced about last night as I kept him up past his bed time with my incessant chatter (as I often do).
Let the record show that he KNEW I was going to be writing about this and he STILL contributed to the conversation. #winning
So here goes.
- That time he came home from the gym to find me in what he can best describe as a “Netflix coma…” So, I’m a millennial who pretty much grew up without internet. I mean, we had internet but it was dial-up, so we basically just barely had internet. Upon moving from a house in the country into the city limits, I was introduced to high-speed internet and the wonders of Netflix. You mean you can actually binge-watch a show that you don’t own on DVD? What?! Well, anyway, I got into this British show called “Call the Midwife” and it kind of started to consume my soul. At the time, I had access to four seasons—or maybe it was five. I don’t know. Enough, at any rate. Beause it wasn’t exactly a show I thought Mr. Writerly One would like (for obvious reasons), I would usually just watch it when he was out of the house. Well, apparently I got a little too into it one day and somehow managed to slide partially off the couch without realizing it… Said action caused my shorts to get yanked halfway up my waist and my shirt to crawl up in such a way that it looked like it was tucked into said shorts. And that was the condition in which my husband of three weeks found me upon returning home from the gym. I hereby enter a plea of Nolo Contendere…
- That time I unintentionally insulted my husband of six months’ fancy smoked cheese… One night after we’d been out grocery shopping, Mr. Writerly One called me into the kitchen and told me he had something for me to try. He was so excited about it and when I saw that it was cheese, I was pretty excited about it… because cheese. So he proceeded to cut me off a little sliver and waited expectantly as I partook of it. “Well, what do you think?!” he asked. To which I replied, “Mmm… Tastes like a Slim Jim!” I didn’t mean it as an insult. I love Slim Jims, but I guess he must’ve paid a little too much for that cheese for it to be compared to a “cheap dollar meat stick.” I didn’t get to eat any more of the yummy Slim Jim cheese after that. #rude
- That time I stole his keys… We have a pretty serious key problem in our house. My keys have gotten locked in my car at a store while Mr. Writerly One was pulling a 24 hour shift at the fire station, he’s managed to leave his keys in the door all night on a Saturday night in our sometimes-questionable neighborhood, and we both lose our keys at least once a week. The most memorable key crisis, however, occurred this summer when Mr. Writerly One was taking a summer class and I was working. It was one of those mornings where I just couldn’t get it together and had almost been late for work. Such mornings often involve mad dashes around the house shoving things into my purse while I attempt to drink my coffee and round up my shoes. I’m not a morning person. Thankfully, I managed to make it to work on time so I just assumed that all was well and not crazy. Until I got a text from my panicked husband saying he couldn’t find his keys anywhere and he had to be in class in fifteen minutes. Naturally, my first response was to suggest a few potential places where me might look for them. He’d checked all those. I suggested a couple more places. He’d checked there, too. Finally, I gave up and told my coworkers I needed to run a quick errand. I would just take him to his class, I decided, and then go pick him up afterwards when my lunch hour rolled around. As I scrambled around in my purse for my keys, I notice they seemed a little bit lighter than usual… and the keychain was grabbing didn’t feel like mine, either. Needless to say, I didn’t have to drive him to class after all.
Well, there you have it. I have officially given you a peek into our first year of marriage—whether you wanted it or not. One year down, 102 left to go…
I love you, Mr. Writerly One.
With all my heart,
Your Wife of One Whole Year