“Your one year anniversary is coming up. Khalas, you’ve waited long enough. I want you to be nine months pregnant, next month”, my grandma demands over our catch up call yesterday. She’s not kidding.
This time last year, I was a blushing bride lathering myself in egg whites, rice baths, and moisturizing hair treatments. I was nervous and excited for the adventure to come.
I look at my messages to see the last loving text I sent my husband. It read “stop using my toothbrush or I will beat you with it” to which he responded with “( . )( . )”.
A summary of our relationship: sass, love, absurd threats, confusion about who the red toothbrush belongs to (me), and an abundance of explicit emoticons.
This year, I learned that the honeymoon ends at the honeymoon. That marriage isn’t like living with your boyfriend as some explained it to me, because you can send your boyfriend home when you get mad or turn off your phone. You have to face the fight when you’re married because all you have is each other and he’s literally sleeping five inches away from you. I also learned that morning breath is unavoidable unless you run to brush your teeth before he wakes up (which really gets exhausting) and that no matter how hard you try to deny it, eventually he will realize you have to go #2.
Most importantly, I learned that the first year is the hardest year as they say. It’s full of ridiculous amounts of love and frustrations that make you want to both hug and stab your spouse. It’s also full of strange realizations that you’re actually interested in conversations about cleaning services, and a new grocery store that sells reasonably priced locally grown fruits and veggies, all while giggling over the fact that our husbands think the floor is a hamper. You find that discussions of finances, mortgages, and children circle your dinner table, as well as dreams and ambitions.
And while I’ve definitely grown over the past year, both physically and mentally (especially physically*), I realize how little I thought I actually knew and how much more I have to learn. I’m not in Kansas anymore, that’s for sure.
So here I am: a little wiser, but still a freshman in the school of life and responsibilities.
*A message to all the brides-to-be, you will gain weight. Between birth control (if you take it), raging hormones, and the change in lifestyle – it will happen one way or the other. “Not me” you say? I did too, until I found myself struggling to fit into my skinny jeans because my ass had expanded horizontally from all of the last minute pastas I threw together while learning how to cook. And I haven’t even had kids yet.