On Being Married

Mr. and Mrs. B

One of my very favorite wedding photos.

Mr. B and I are coming up on three weeks married. And, clearly, that makes us experts on marriage.

Or not.

Really, can anyone ever be an expert on marriage?

In fact, it’s still weird to think about being someone’s wife, having a husband, being married. I mean, my gosh, I’m a “Mrs.”

And every time I get another piece of mail with my new name on it, I hide it away because it still looks weird. Mom says it will always look weird. But a weird I’ll get used to, I suppose. If someone were to call me by my married name, I doubt I’d answer. Yet.

Mr. B and I are still settling into our life together. He’s just started a new job, and we’re still working on merging our two separate homes to create our new “together home.” So there’s a lot to do until we really feel like we’re settling into our routine instead of two separate routines that happen to pass in the night.

But, in the short three weeks we’ve been married, some things have become very clear:

  • Two people make a lot more dirty laundry than one person
  • What is annoying to one person is not the same thing that’s annoying to another person — and vice versa
  • “Decorating” can, apparently, mean two different things
  • Two people make a lot more garbage than one person
  • Being married is sometimes nighttime snuggles and whispering sweet nothings, sometimes it’s waking up to a clogged toilet and a note on the toilet seat that says “don’t use the toilet, it needs to be plunged and I didn’t want to wake you to find the plunger”*
  • Compromise is important — even when it comes to what brand of toilet paper to buy
  • Grocery shopping just got A LOT more interesting
  • My wardrobe just doubled! (Yes, I’m writing this post on the couch, snuggled up in Mr. B’s T-shirt and wearing his socks to keep my toesies toasty. Shhh … don’t tell him.)

And, most importantly:

  • Life truly is better — and a lot more fun — with my best friend, the love of my life, by my side
spinning at wedding

He can always make me laugh.

*Still feel bad about that, Mr. B

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  1. Pingback: I Write What I Want | That's All Joy Wrote

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