It’s been less than three months, and I’m wondering if it’s too soon to take a second honeymoon. I’m also wondering if marriage is easier on couples who can afford to take a second honeymoon. Or is it impossible for problems—such as the ones we seem to be facing—to be quick-fixed by fruity drinks sipped on sandy beaches. Money is an issue and, no, it’s not everything and it’s not all there is, but it’s easier to say/think/believe that when you actually have some, is it not? Of course it’s also not our only issue. We have a handful, and I hear this is normal. (This is normal, right?) (RIGHT?)
I’m also wondering if it’s just me and my paranoia/insecurity/ability to over-analyze and over-think everything that causes this wall of funk to erect itself every now and again.
All I really know is that yesterday evening I got blue and everything was unsettling me. Our busy and conflicting schedules, our communication breakdowns, our finances, my weight, the CW’s new fall lineup, our milk-less fridge, the ozone, the neighbor’s cats, those cute shoes I bought a year ago and have yet to wear.
I slammed a door last night—hard—and Mike followed me into the bathroom to ask WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH ME (he didn't use those exact words, but I wouldn't have blamed him if he had), and I said to him, “I just needed to slam a door.”
Months ago, we bought a nice comforter for our bed. We decided, as a couple, Molly would no longer be allowed to sleep with us because, if we’re being honest, she is the reason we needed the new comforter in the first place. This decision was ultimately harder for me because I snuggle and Molly snuggles and Mike? HE DOES NOT SNUGGLE. Mike prefers for nothing to touch him while he sleeps (other than those nine pillows he carefully hand-selected). We’ve been pretty diligent about keeping Molly off the bed, and it helped that we bought her a new bed and a new comforter of her own to ease the transition. She handled it all in stride—other than those few months she ignored us completely and constantly muttered under her breath that her grandma would never do this to her.
Last night, after the door slamming and the hours of feeling blue-ish and funky-ish I did finally go to bed. Only to toss and turn and then throw the covers off in a fit of rage because SLEEP, YOU CAN'T EVEN BE NICE TO ME?
I walked back into the kitchen and said to Mike: “I need Molly to sleep with me tonight. I just need her to.” I could tell he was conflicted but he ultimately said no. He said it would erase months of training and we’d have to start from scratch. He looked torn, he did. But he still said no. I went to bed, and I cried. Because on top of the ozone, I couldn’t even snuggle with my dog and, OH MY, life is hard.
About five minutes later I felt a weight on the covers. I turned to see Mike silhouetted in the dark, lifting Molly onto our bed. He whispered to her, “Mama needs you tonight. But just for tonight.”
And then I cried some more.
Life is hard and it turns out marriage is hard too. But it’s much easier when you know you’ve picked the right partner.