It has recently come to my attention how annoying newlywed bloggers can be. Their perfect, shiny lives and how they blog so cheerfully makes readers want to vomit. I laughed and thought, "well good thing I'm not like that."
Wrong. I am like that.
So I am writing this post to you, my darling reader, to inform you just how dysfunctional my marriage can be. That is to say, yes, we are happily married, but we have our days. It is my belief that if you don't have a few black-letter days, the red-letter days become more like maroon-letter days. Plus, life would get really boring if every day were, "I'm so cheerful all of the time, let's go frolic in the flowers!!!!"
Stop reading here if you are easily offended.
Things Paul does to irritate me to tears:
- The boy drinks Mountain Dew like it's his life nectar. Soda is wretched for his health and I keep trying to convince him that if he keeps drinking it, he's going to die of heart disease by age forty. He scoffs.
- Paul leaves the toilet seat up. All. Of. The. Time. Sounds innocent. Combine pregnancy, poor eyesight, and midnight bathroom breaks with a lifted toilet seat, and you get a pissed-off pregnant woman with a wet bottom. See here.
- There are some days where I am hormonal, moody, and there is no chocolate available. It's always on these days that Paul wants to play the tickle game or the lick-his-finger-and-stick-it-in-my-ear game. It's all fun and affectionate but on those really moody days, I don't like to play. I get snappy.
Things I do to irritate Paul into oblivion:
- When I curse. In my defense, it's become significantly more rare since I've known him. But there are times when a collar-popping Californian driving an H3 cuts me off in traffic and certain derogatory terms that begin with 'A' seem to fall out of my mouth.
- I steal the covers at night. Every single morning that he's woken up since being married, he has been without covers. He's pretty good-natured about this one, but it still drives him insane.
- I nag him about eating well and drinking soda in moderation. Sometimes I think he eats Taco Bell five times a week just to vex me.
So, dear reader, I know you've probably fainted from shock before you got to the end of this post, but I hope I've conveyed that I do not think my marriage is picture perfect. I believe that Paul and I were meant for each other, and that I definitely married the right person. But we are not perfect. Our marriage is not perfect. I greatly favor this imperfection because it brings about some of the happiest days I've had in my life. Thanks for reading.