What is normal?

* this might not make sense- but it was necessary*

For the next 2 weeks I'm living alone with my kitties in the house I share with my future husband. 7 days after those two weeks are up- I will be his wife. The Mrs... The old ball and chain... The battle axe...The Little Mrs. Yep, the wedding has finally arrived.

Freedom!!!!!

As my last "single girl" weeks draw to a close, this alone time is a blessing to reflect on this whole ordeal and accept my identity crisis. Ever since my first candle pass in my sorority, I couldn't wait to one day have a man and [non Marquis cut] rock of my own. How fun to be engaged and have bridesmaids and a yummy cake?! This happens to every girl upon college graduation, right? As many long time friends know, the college relationship I shared with a guy that everyone thought was destined to end in marriage, did not. Boohoo. YIPEEEE!!!
Finally I was free! Free to date around and flirt and mingle and have fun. Welllllll maybe I should have reigned in my fun because my open heart took quite a pounding over the next 6 years...leaving me what was recently referred to as "sadly jaded". It's true. I am unfortunately instantly untrusting of people in general, and my time away from home, moving around has not exactly helped restore my once blissfully ignorant happy nature. Now I have been labeled as someone who is "not nice" and "doesn't think very Christian." To say that to a girl who grew up attending Church twice a week for 12+ years, doesn't sit quite right. At all. First of all, the more time has passed since my care free days as a single college senior- the more I struggle to relate to the women in my family. Then I joined the Navy- and upon meeting other women realized that no, I can't make friends so easily anymore. Suddenly a kind word and friendly attitude is taken for stupidity and flirting- not just being a Christian gal and showing kindness to a neighbor.  This concept I'll never understand, but have learned to adapt to. Mostly.

There I am... 25 and as Ms. Yearwood sang, "...trying to make it in her daddy's world." No boyfriend or even a prospect, no money- just a degree, a low paying full time job, and a whole life I was leaving behind to find where I was supposed to go and be the person I am meant to be; See the world, and serve honorably. The Navy was not always a dream of mine. As much as I love it, it really wasn't.  For so long when family suggested joining I rejected the idea because I'd have to leave home and cut my hair. Truth be told, I wanted to go to graduate school and work at a college. I loved college and never wanted to leave. My friends were there and the classes were fun and challenging.

But away I went to the experience of a lifetime.  Finally I realized that being a Navy girl is not attractive and the likelihood of me following suit with my non-Navy friends of ever being married in my 20's really wasn't looking too good. Left and right, engagements popped up, bouquets were tossed, and eventually families grew. Not only did I miss out on those amazing moments with my friends- nothing remotely similar was happening to me. (WTF, universe?!) Instead I was dumped via a text message by one boyfriend, later wound up on a date with a guy who still lived at home and didn't have a job, and then it was time move [AGAIN!] and to deploy. When you're leaving the country for 7+ months, relationships don't start. They look great, and free dinners are nice but things don't go anywhere. Finally I caved. Single. That was me. And upon much reflection and unrest- I learned to accept it. But Single to me meant more than just not having a boyfriend- it meant not having any real friends around either. No one came to visit me...in any of the places I've lived. Of course my girls at home would always be my girls, but my two closest Navy gal pals were on opposite sides of the globe. Ironically also both getting married. Seriously. And to top it off, none of my coworkers wanted anything to do with me. And they all hated each other too. Seriously. Made for a long 7 months. Working 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 212 days straight- and instead of the mentorship and friendship that I thought would come along with my first time at a Division Officer, I got ignored for not wanting to date a coworker and for not being a kiss ass to the upper leadership.  That's not how I was raised. I was raised to work hard and advance on my own merit, to earn respect instead of demanding it and to respect others even if I don't care for them personally.

This. Totally. Happened. To me.

I supposed the feeling I'm really trying to convey is that I felt left out- which isn't unfamiliar to me in the slightest. As a kid  I got left out because I went to school where my Mom taught. Naturally kids think I got special treatment and that's why I did well. Quite the opposite happened. I was given no leeway, and any trouble at school followed me home including punishments. So really, I worked twice as hard to do well and was treated as though I didn't really earn it. That concept often follows women in the Navy- and is incredibly frustrating.  So I worked hard at this job. Long hours, long weeks, long months. And I wondered why this feeling of being "outside" always crept in.  I worked just as hard as everyone else- could my decision to join have been a mistake? What if the Navy isn't for me? What happened to the Navy I grew up hearing about? Why is everyone SUCH a jerk? I don't know if I can take 16 more years of the mental abuse and strain on my personal life. Hostessing at a restaurant wasn't even this bad!!!!! Everyone's life around me is moving forward- masters degrees and babies and weddings. Do I not deserve that too? Maybe it wasn't- I never dreamed about a wedding as a little girl. Apparently many little girls do this? None of my friends did. Of course, this is because I played in the woods with boys, building forts or playing Mario Cart on rainy days and riding bikes. There were no girls around to be friends with... that my mother approved of. Even my barbiedoll phase was short lived.

You know Jesus is watching?...Santa too.

As an adult, the idea of a wedding seemed exhausting- my parents were married in a courthouse. Mom wore a pants suite. While this idea is much too casual and hippie for me, I like the simplicity of it. I'm an independent girl and what I find more desirable than a fabulous china pattern is a man who loves me. Who is honest, because too many were not. Someone who loves my family, and my friends, and me just as I am- stubborn, and independent. Someone who needs me as much as I need him, and who shares my beliefs, and dreams, and wants to make some of our own. Forget bridal showers, and petit fours, and blenders, and poofy dresses.  Cause no matter how skinny you are on your wedding day, it won't change anything about the course your marriage will take. I think [from what I've witnessed] it's your mindset going in- it's accepting all of each other and having reasonable and complimentary expectations of yourself, each other, and the union. The relationship, the partnership, the union before God matters most to me. The commitment and the confidence...and the trust.

And then it happened- and I suddenly instead of giddiness, I wound up feeling wrong again. Not that the engagement was wrong or that it wasn't what I wanted.... but that bride gene that most girls have? Yeah- um, I think I skipped that issue when it was happening. I wasn't excited about picking a place or cake or menu or whatever, and my poor groom just looked at me with confusion. Well, DUH I am girly and love girly things--- so why don't I like any of this stuff as much as other girls? I didn't even know what kind of dress I wanted until it was zipped up on me in the dressing room. The rest of the details sort of fell into place. Can he love the non-bride-Bride that will float toward him in 19 days? Do other women my age or my generation feel this way? The sight of wedding planning just makes them want to scream?

It's just not me. Period. At all. I'm not the "oh-my-God-everyone-pay-attention-to-me-NOW! ALL DAY!" sort of person. And just because I am the bride, doesn't mean I'll become one. I'm more of a "hey ya'll, come get some cake and let's have some drinks and celebrate our union!" I hope that he will love me for the un-Bride that I am, and know for sure that I won't cut my hair off, gain weight, and stop..uh, well, ya know? This isn't normal according to all my planning books but oh well.
He will marry me knowing that I don't give a rats ass about the details- because all the things that I could ever want for a wedding and our marriage are things we already have, and they didn't come from a registry <3

Digging my garden...and casa nueva.

Our home before.... (brace yourself)

Bedroom. Seriously 

What will be my sitting / craft room

Such a disaster! 

At least the TV works!

AFTER!

Just a little peek of the downstairs for now- upstairs is still in shambles until our dressers arrive and are utilized. Enjoy! 

First house!

:)

Handmade wreath on our front door! (by me) 

Entry 

Front door inside

Hallway to guest room and man cave 

Garage entry

Sweet Basil

Cilantro, Sweet Basil, Rosemary, Spicy Basil, and Chives

Gonna taste so good!

Oh, and living a block away from the beach isn't too shabby either :) Thank you, Uncle Sam!

Ben paddling out

This is nice!

My handsome surfer!

View of the Channel Islands...from my blanket.

One man's trash is not my treasure

KEVLAR: keep your walls bulletproof!

Yeah. This really sucks.

     3,186 miles later, 3 time zones, and 1800 square feet later- we're getting settled here in [sometimes] sunny California. Not contrary to popular advice, moving in with a significant other is hard. Even harder when you couple that with moving across the country where you know no one else and are starting a new job. There should seriously be a book for women that teaches us how to cohabitate and manage our emotions so we don't scream "WHY THE F*** DID YOU THINK THAT <insert awful man-coration here> BELONGED IN OUR <insert room in house here>??" (man-coration: adjective- decoration from the boyfriend that has existed longer than it should have, and somehow wound up in the new house but won't necessarily remain a permanent fixture). It doesn't help that of ALL my belongings that travelled from VA to CA, my dresser didn't make it. So after a month, I am still functioning via little organized piles of my clothing stacked around the bedroom and the sitting room outside the bedroom.  It is really annoying because I hate clutter.  And they broke the glass on several pictures, and the frame on another. Rawr! But anyway, back on track for this post...

The 1/2 of the garage...

My entry way from the garage.

...the other 1/2 of the garage.

Man Cave.

     Something about straight men we ladies should keep in mind is that they are organized [in their own twisted, way], but it will almost never be to most womens' level of satisfaction. This will not change. It's only been a month of living together officially, and I've accepted it. Why? Well, let's look at the logic- he, like most boys, has been this messy and crazy his whole life. Moving in with me will not instantly make him HGTV organized. Sooooo just accepting what's a fact will make both our lives easier. (oorrrrrrr just mine) Unfortunately, it doesn't stave off my insane, uncontrollable anger that welled up when I looked in our guest room after about a month of cohabitation and realized it was more of a disaster than the day we arrived. The first week I was here, it only took a few days before the whole unpacking and getting settled thing wore out it's welcome.  Ben didn't get any extra time off to help me which was just a bummer.  And let me tell you, gals- when your man comes home from work, he does NOT want to unpack, fold, organize, rearrange, or clean A N Y T H I N G. Not even his gun. (well.... maybe).  So I was flying "Operation: Sacksen-House-Set-Up" on my own.  First thing I realized? Hangers are for his Church clothes. That's it. And to him, the floor is where everything else goes. Seriously.

Scary, right?

TADA!!!!! The lamp works, and the sheets are fresh!

      So finally, this past week Ben was working late and really stressed, and my meter had been pegged on the guest room.  A few days prior to the grand reorganization of this room that was about to happen, I'd tasked Ben with taking several boxes downstairs to go in our storage cabinets near the garage. Or at least that's where I thought they went. Soooo I strolled in on Wednesday afternoon from the beach to see ALL the boxes ALL OVER THE ROOM [on top of all his other shit that was covering the floor and bed]. Yep... That. Was. It. I mentally prepared myself and went in.  All I have to say is that it is AMAZING how after only about 2 hours of folding, sniffing (and shuddering), stacking, hanging, bed making, and organizing- I made the room look like someone could actually sleep there and not wakeup screaming in the middle of the night. Now, it's no where near where I'd like it to look... but with the arrival of his real, big boy dresser it should get most of his clothing out of the cheap plastic furniture he's carried over from college and into the bedroom.  Then some pictures and curtains can go up and maybe even a rug on the floor.

View from the sliding door.

    In conclusion, living together is a lot of fun because we get to see each other every day- but men and women really are different and learning which battles to fight is a daily challenge in itself. And so far, it's worth it.  Stay tuned for more fun posts of our adventures!!!

"...that bwessed awangment."

“Mawage, that bwessed awangment, that dweam wifin a dweam.” Yes yes, The Princess Bride is hilarious. Now onto more serious matters.

So handsome!

When I was in college, almost every senior in my sorority was engaged by the time she donned her cap and gown.  The saying was “You come to college to find your husband, you join your sorority to find your bridesmaids.” Gag me, right? Yeah that’s what I thought too.  Wedding after wedding, chicken dance after electric slide, I thought for sure my turn would be coming in a few years.  After all, the college boyfriend and I were “that couple” and everyone was certain we were headed towards matrimonial bliss.  Then reality and fate stepped in and I ninja-bitch-kicked that twerp to the curb. THANK GOODNESS! Fortunately for this princess many years of frogs were ahead of me. Yuck!  Meanwhile, I attended many weddings, watching all my girlfriends marry their Mr. Right and soon after, begin producing perfect little tiny people.  So after about age 25 I sort of just hung up the whole idea that I was going to get to join the club of wedded bliss.  For real.  Call it [and me] bitter, I prefer “realistic”.  I thought if I really met the right person, we’d just do something small and simple. NBD. My family is small… so it’d be easy to plan. Hahahaha! That notion it hilarious to me now. 

Why is that funny, you wonder? Well, if you haven’t met my fiancé then it wouldn’t make sense. He and his family do nothing in moderation.  [Perfect example: We opened presents on Christmas Day…all day. Until dinner. Seriously.] So once we got engaged, and reality set in I realized my idea of something simple and small was lost in the dust. Big time.

Sneaky boyfriend...the ring was in his shirt pocket!!!

To clarify, the act of getting engaged is awesome.  Words don’t do justice to how it felt seeing the man of my dreams on one knee, blinding me with a diamond ring, in the most beautiful place I’d ever been. I was so stunned that instead of crying like most girls do [or say that they do] I just sorta of dropped my jaw in disbelief and kept saying “Oh my God this is really happening. Oh my God. Oh my God….” Sneaky boyfriend! Unfortunately for most couples, the amount of stress and pressure that soon after follows is more like a nightmare [sorry, babe] that doesn’t seem like it’ll end until after the last “Thank You” note is mailed off. 

So let’s just put this out there…the ugly truth, if you will. Being engaged is not the dream that every girl envisions. Seriously, there should be a manual issued to every gal over 21 breaking down all the unfortunate truths of being an adult not living the life we see on “Keeping up with the Kardashians”. [hmm… maybe this manual idea will become another solid post that my buddy Rob will enjoy.]  Weddings cost money, no matter how big or small you want it and as every bride discovers- http://www.theknot.com/ is bursting with vendors ready to rape you for every penny you’re willing to spend, and millions of ideas that most of us non-billionaires can’t afford.  [The better websites for my fabulous gals on a budget? http://www.pinterest.com/ and http://www.etsy.com/ .] 

In addition to feeling like a terrible Bride because you can’t afford a bag of personalized M&M’s or with your initials and date, everyone (family and/or wedding party) has an opinion.  Where to have it. Who to invite. What to wear. What to eat. Which church…the list goes on. RAWR! Help is welcome.  Negativity is not. It makes me a cranky-pants-Bride and then my MOH has to regulate!

Lucky for B and I, we’re footing the bill so what we say goes. Period. <insert ‘plan laugh’ >

The thing that has actually disappoints me most is not that I don’t have $50,000 to spare or that my family has been less than enthusiastic about my wedding, it’s actually the “marriage advice” that I get from RUDE people.  Most of the time, I appreciate a little wisdom from the other officers in my Wardroom or people that I know. But we have a lot of jackasses around…and these crusty old farts really should just keep it moving. Instead of the usual sweet stuff you hear like “Never go to bed angry”, “Always kiss me goodnight”, these jerk faces say things like:

“Hope you got a pre-nup!”

“So you’re really getting married, huh?”

“Wait, you’re getting married to another service member? And you’re both active duty? HA! Good luck!”

“Just wait until you have kids…then your life is over.”

“So, still getting married?”

“Don’t get fat, cut your hair, or stop putting out.”

“Why are you getting married? You’re life is over- your husband isn’t going to let you go out and do anything.”

“Hm. Guess you weren’t planning on staying in the Navy. Wait, you are? Why? Get out and just stay home and have children.”

Seriously.

For the record, I am not interested in the fact that you’ve gone years in your marriage with no sex and you weren’t even deployed. Or that you and your spouse had a ton of kids way too early in your marriage and lost the romance that brought ya’ll together. Or that your wife just won’t put out; and that your kids are brats.  Hell, if I was your wife I wouldn’t either since you have a nasty attitude like that. Maybe it’s time to take a look in the mirror there, pops. It takes two, ya know?! Geez, if you’re that unhappy do what every other middle aged fat ass man having a midlife crisis in America does. Divorce your wife, buy a sports car, get a dumb haircut, a fake tan, and a 22 year old bimbo girlfriend.

I smile and laugh and tell them they’re being silly, but they just look at me like I’m a moron and have no idea what I’m getting myself into. It’s in those moments I wish I’d been just as rude back to them.  I’m about one more negative comment away from invoking my mother’s statement of “If you’ve nothing kind to say to me keep it to yourself.”

…NOT WELCOME HERE!

I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. How could I? I’ve never been married before and honestly no one really knows what the hell they’re doing when they say “I do”… but the few important things I do know is that I love him, we are committed each other and to our life together, and the rest is just details that will work themselves out one way or the other. And I’m always right J HA!

xoxo