My husband made his second offer of marriage on this day last year. He assumed I would say no, but then I said yes and steam-rolled him into making it happen right away. It took us about 4 weeks to put together the whole thing, with lots of help from outside sources. The only parent we were able to tell in-person was my dad, who immediately cracked a bottle of Prosecco he had in the basement and a cannoli pie that he. . . also had in the basement. The man can be counted on to be ready. He then wanted a complete list of people who had been told before him. You told your brother? Your friends? Your landlord?!? We had saved him for a face-to-face because he was the only one we were going to get, but the only thing that saved us from being in trouble that he was almost last, was that my husband's mother hadn't yet been told. That was mostly because my husband was afraid of her. He had never had a shotgun wedding before and was concerned that he was going to disappoint his family. I wasn't worried because I disappoint my family all the time. It ain't no thang.
It all worked out and we're just a few short weeks away from celebrating our first year of marriage. I've heard the first year is the hardest, but I don't really believe that. I think it's much more common to hate each other and scream and yell in the tenth year and beyond, although we've had our difficulties in the past 11 months. We both still fear that the other will come to their senses, pack up and leave in the middle of the night, but hopefully eating year old cake will make us more confident in one another's sense of commitment. We also both struggle with cohabitation. My propensity for scolding over how to load the dishwasher, the positioning of the bathroom rug and hanging towels, and the proper way to put away food items has amazed me on an almost daily basis. Turns out he can't be trusted around a cooked chicken.
My husband is awesome. When I make a bad joke that is so over the line that people around me are cringing - I can count on him to laugh anyway. Ha ha ha dead babies! Oh Rachel! If someone is rude to me - or I've earned their venom, he hates them on my behalf. Why was that cashier giving you a hard time about those coupons for jelly beans? I hate him. He's a great cook and makes the best coffee on the planet. I'm going to rub a stick of butter on this ham and then bake it. You know this espresso machine you got me for my birthday? What if we make shots and then dump them into our regular coffee?
If we get 50 years together, it won't be enough
No comments:
Post a Comment