I think I offend people when I say I don't want children right now. That, or people think I'm kidding. When asked why, I respond with the uncreative, simple, "Now is not the right time" that ellicits the same responses: "There's never a right time" and "You'll never have enough money."
But let me be honest and real with you for a moment. I never said I didn't want children (and if I did that would be my husband and my choice) I just said not right now. I adore my husband's godson, my stepbrother's twin daughters and all of my friend's kids as if they were my own nieces and nephews. I gush when I hear my husband say things like, "When we have kids" or when he holds a baby and smiles. I also see panic streak across his face when his godson cries. His arms jut out with the baby toward me and says, "What did I do?" and "What does he want?" as if I have all the answers. That's when sympathy washes over me and I think if I can help it, why not save him from going gray quicker by waiting on parenthood a little longer.
If there is one sure thing I have known I want in my future is to be a mom. Children are an incredible miracle and a blessing. Forgive me for wanting to be selfish right now. I want to overindulge. I want to buy things for myself and go places and not feel guilty, stay up late (because I want to) and sleep in if I feel like it.
Don't get me wrong, when friends announce a pregnancy I'm thrilled for them. It gets my imagination running with thoughts of what I'll look like pregnant and will our baby inherit more of my personality or Nick's, etc. etc. etc.?
No matter what Nick and I say or do, the bets of when we'll announce a pregnancy continue. If I say to my mom, "I don't feel well" she'll still look at me with glee and reply, "Nick is going to be so excited!" as if every hiccup means I'll make her a new grandma.
I guess my point is I don't despise your children. I don't think becoming a parent is this horrendous life sentence. I am actually in awe of parenthood and all its challenges, rewards and more. It is a privilege; one that (unless life throws me a little curve ball) I'm just not ready to accept right now.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
12.07.2011
11.03.2011
Free birth control.
Something has come between my husband and I.
Two months ago, when my husband was lax on shaving a couple days a co-worker asked Nick why he didn't just grow a beard. Nick thought about it and said, "Hey why not?" Not realizing there can be too much of a good thing, the same co-worker came back with why not grow your beard until Christmas? Encouraged by the incentive of $20, Nick thought about it (or at least I'm hoping) and said again, "Hey why not?"
Time went on and his beard of course grew...and grew...and grew. More co-workers began cheering Nick on. Then his boss approached him. Although they have a great relationship, he was afraid what his boss might have to say. I thought FINALLY a reason he'll HAVE to shave and he won't be out $20 if his boss makes him remove the feline growing on his face. No...such...luck. His boss threw in an extra $25 to see if he'd go through with it.
Most of you would say $45 are you kidding me? My best friend even offered to give him $50 to shave if I didn't like it. And to tell you the truth, he's probably kept it so long in part because of me. See, when this bet began I was encouraging it, too. I would say he can't lose! It was the principal of the matter! Be competitive!
I'm eating my words.
Not only is his beard thick, it's a deep auburn, highlighting his Irish ancestry. If he straightened it, I'm positive it would be nearing 2 inches long. We've gone through more shampoo and conditioner in these two months than we have probably in a year of marriage. So at least I can say it's clean. He know can't leave the house without a comb, which have gone through the washer at least half a dozen times. When he lost his third comb in a week I had to give up my teasing comb so his beard could remain just so.
I have not been able to properly kiss my husband since the end of summer. We have resorted to a quick familial peck on the lips. Any more than that and I'm combating a losing battle with whiskers. With kissing the gateway to other things, let's just say his beard has now become the gatekeeper.
But it gets better. While his beard grows to epic proportions, Nick discovered he needs to train it to grow a certain way. We began a hunt for mustache wax. Yes, there is such a thing. The moment he began curling the ends into a handlebar mustache I almost lost it.
There's two more months to go. I ask myself if I can handle being married to Tom Hank's character, Chuck Noland in Castaway? Hmm, anyone want to join my petition and collection?
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
Two months ago, when my husband was lax on shaving a couple days a co-worker asked Nick why he didn't just grow a beard. Nick thought about it and said, "Hey why not?" Not realizing there can be too much of a good thing, the same co-worker came back with why not grow your beard until Christmas? Encouraged by the incentive of $20, Nick thought about it (or at least I'm hoping) and said again, "Hey why not?"
Time went on and his beard of course grew...and grew...and grew. More co-workers began cheering Nick on. Then his boss approached him. Although they have a great relationship, he was afraid what his boss might have to say. I thought FINALLY a reason he'll HAVE to shave and he won't be out $20 if his boss makes him remove the feline growing on his face. No...such...luck. His boss threw in an extra $25 to see if he'd go through with it.
Most of you would say $45 are you kidding me? My best friend even offered to give him $50 to shave if I didn't like it. And to tell you the truth, he's probably kept it so long in part because of me. See, when this bet began I was encouraging it, too. I would say he can't lose! It was the principal of the matter! Be competitive!
I'm eating my words.
Not only is his beard thick, it's a deep auburn, highlighting his Irish ancestry. If he straightened it, I'm positive it would be nearing 2 inches long. We've gone through more shampoo and conditioner in these two months than we have probably in a year of marriage. So at least I can say it's clean. He know can't leave the house without a comb, which have gone through the washer at least half a dozen times. When he lost his third comb in a week I had to give up my teasing comb so his beard could remain just so.
I have not been able to properly kiss my husband since the end of summer. We have resorted to a quick familial peck on the lips. Any more than that and I'm combating a losing battle with whiskers. With kissing the gateway to other things, let's just say his beard has now become the gatekeeper.
But it gets better. While his beard grows to epic proportions, Nick discovered he needs to train it to grow a certain way. We began a hunt for mustache wax. Yes, there is such a thing. The moment he began curling the ends into a handlebar mustache I almost lost it.
There's two more months to go. I ask myself if I can handle being married to Tom Hank's character, Chuck Noland in Castaway? Hmm, anyone want to join my petition and collection?
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
10.21.2011
I'm back!
I have to admit. I took a little hiatus from blogging. It's not to say that my husband and/or my marriage weren't giving me enough material, but honestly things were getting kind of real. I began walking this line asking myself, how much do want to tell on your blog? What's appropriate? Do people really care? Do I just sound like a nagging, cranky wife? It was a little terrifying.
We have been married for more than a year (amazing, still can't believe it) and we still don't have this thing figured out. I'm not entirely surprised. Relationships are a lot of continuous work.
After some serious thought and a much needed break I've decided, I want my blog to be real, not some hoaky blog full of embellishments and fabrication.
So I'm back, ready to write as I originally envisioned. The ups, the downs and everything in between.
Enjoy!
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
We have been married for more than a year (amazing, still can't believe it) and we still don't have this thing figured out. I'm not entirely surprised. Relationships are a lot of continuous work.
After some serious thought and a much needed break I've decided, I want my blog to be real, not some hoaky blog full of embellishments and fabrication.
So I'm back, ready to write as I originally envisioned. The ups, the downs and everything in between.
Enjoy!
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
7.30.2011
11 Things Never to Say to a Man You Love
In the June 2011 issue of Redbook Magazine I read a fun piece titled, "11 Things Never to Say to a Man You Love" and wondered how many of those I had accomplished over the course of 10 months of marriage.
1. I can't wait to see what you're doing for my birthday.
I plead pure excitement with this one. I can't help that Nick is great with surprises and I never know what he's going to get me! I deserve a free pass.
2. Are you...crying?
This one isn't fair. My feeling is real men cry just as real men wear pink. If you call them out on it they shouldn't feel any less masculine. Now I do the draw the line at some point. If he blubbered over every little thing I know that would grate on my nerves. But really sad movies (ask him how feels about Marley and Me), the passing of a relative, a baby being born and other life experiences more than acceptable.
I cry over EVERYTHING so really who am I to judge?
3. If we leave right now, we'll have time to stop by Bed Bath & Beyond.
Poor Nick. I do drag him everywhere on the weekends. I'll have our entire day scheduled and am sure I've made statements similar to this. I don't know how many times I've heard <sigh> "Do I really have to go?" Where my simple response has been, "It'll only take a few minutes. It's not going to kill you." An eye roll ensues with more sighing. Then I get, "Well will you buy me something?"
4. Do you need help lighting the grill?
I wouldn't be very helpful with this one. I'm petrified I'll somehow manage to blow up our patio with the propane tank.
5. I'm putting this whole conversation on my blog.
Look what you're reading. Enough said.
6. You had so much hair back then!
We haven't gotten quite to that point just yet, however I will openly admit I have checked his hairline from time to time looking for signs of rescinding.
7. I don't care how big and drunk he is, he shouldn't be talking through the movie. I'm going to say something.
Oh boy. I've gotten Nick into a couple hairy situations (no pun intended to #6). I take for granted that my husband can hold his own, however, I don't need to help him into it.
8. Actually; it doesn't happen to every guy.
Yikes. Low blow right there.
9. We're vegetarians now.
Yep tried this one too. I didn't go nearly that far. I mentioned an article I read about "going vegetarian" one night a week can add years to your life. When I mentioned my plan you would have thought I told him we were selling all of our worldly possessions and going to live off the land.
10. My dad can fix that; you should call him.
Eek. Is it bad I've almost accomplished all of these? Do I least get a bonus point because a called my grandpa instead? Or do I lose a point because I called someone even older than my dad?
11. You know why.
One of his biggest pet peeves I'm sure. Assuming he should know. In a year of marriage and a seven year relationship, I've discovered men are oblivious to many things that annoy the hell out of most women.
Well, Redbook Magazine you have me pretty well figured out. I wonder how I've managed to become such a typical woman. I blame men.
Compiled by Troy Pattee of Dadventurous.com, Shawn Burns of Backpackingdad.com and Aaron Traister of redbookmag.com.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
1. I can't wait to see what you're doing for my birthday.
I plead pure excitement with this one. I can't help that Nick is great with surprises and I never know what he's going to get me! I deserve a free pass.
2. Are you...crying?
This one isn't fair. My feeling is real men cry just as real men wear pink. If you call them out on it they shouldn't feel any less masculine. Now I do the draw the line at some point. If he blubbered over every little thing I know that would grate on my nerves. But really sad movies (ask him how feels about Marley and Me), the passing of a relative, a baby being born and other life experiences more than acceptable.
I cry over EVERYTHING so really who am I to judge?
3. If we leave right now, we'll have time to stop by Bed Bath & Beyond.
Poor Nick. I do drag him everywhere on the weekends. I'll have our entire day scheduled and am sure I've made statements similar to this. I don't know how many times I've heard <sigh> "Do I really have to go?" Where my simple response has been, "It'll only take a few minutes. It's not going to kill you." An eye roll ensues with more sighing. Then I get, "Well will you buy me something?"
4. Do you need help lighting the grill?
I wouldn't be very helpful with this one. I'm petrified I'll somehow manage to blow up our patio with the propane tank.
5. I'm putting this whole conversation on my blog.
Look what you're reading. Enough said.
6. You had so much hair back then!
We haven't gotten quite to that point just yet, however I will openly admit I have checked his hairline from time to time looking for signs of rescinding.
7. I don't care how big and drunk he is, he shouldn't be talking through the movie. I'm going to say something.
Oh boy. I've gotten Nick into a couple hairy situations (no pun intended to #6). I take for granted that my husband can hold his own, however, I don't need to help him into it.
8. Actually; it doesn't happen to every guy.
Yikes. Low blow right there.
9. We're vegetarians now.
Yep tried this one too. I didn't go nearly that far. I mentioned an article I read about "going vegetarian" one night a week can add years to your life. When I mentioned my plan you would have thought I told him we were selling all of our worldly possessions and going to live off the land.
10. My dad can fix that; you should call him.
Eek. Is it bad I've almost accomplished all of these? Do I least get a bonus point because a called my grandpa instead? Or do I lose a point because I called someone even older than my dad?
11. You know why.
One of his biggest pet peeves I'm sure. Assuming he should know. In a year of marriage and a seven year relationship, I've discovered men are oblivious to many things that annoy the hell out of most women.
Well, Redbook Magazine you have me pretty well figured out. I wonder how I've managed to become such a typical woman. I blame men.
Compiled by Troy Pattee of Dadventurous.com, Shawn Burns of Backpackingdad.com and Aaron Traister of redbookmag.com.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
7.19.2011
A Testament of True Love
I know my blog was intended to be a diary/journal of the adventures, misadventures and lessons Nick and I learn together as we navigate married life.
But sometimes others have a way of making an incredible impression on your life. I had to share.
Paralyzed bride to marry one year after accident
A year ago, I remember turning on my favorite news station and hearing the story of a young couple, preparing for their wedding day, surrounded by tragedy.
The bride-to-be was enjoying her bachelorette party, when one of her bridesmaids pushed her into the shallow end of a pool. She immediately knew something was wrong and desperately asked her friends to call 911.
She was paralyzed. It was one month before she was set to say I do.
But on air the couple seem relatively unscathed. You could see the hurt on their faces, but behind those looks was something more - true, unfaltering love.
They didn't blame the bridesmaid or even seem angry with her. In fact, she was still on the guest list. They recognized this event as a tragic accident, one that would reshape their entire life together.
The groom-to-be said he never once thought, "What am I going to do?" only, "What are we going to do?".
Naysayers may say "aww, how sweet" and go about their lives. This story, however, struck me to the core. It made me check myself. How many times since Nick and I exchanged our vows had I joked or threatened divorce knowing I never meant it? How many times had I criticized instead of discussed or supported? How many times had I nagged about something petty in the grand scheme of things?
I don't doubt this couple won't face their fair share of challenges. But regardless of the challenges they will face, it's easy to see the tremendous amount of support they have for one another.
It's been a year since this couples life together was shattered. They've picked up the pieces and never looked back. In good times and in bad...in sickness and in health. Those vows are more than just idle words. They are a testament and a promise to one another.
I don't know this couple and most likely will never meet them, but they have given me an invaluable gift. One that I can use over and over again. It's a reminder how fragile love and life can be. When you know you have met your soul mate, your true love to never, ever take that for granted.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
But sometimes others have a way of making an incredible impression on your life. I had to share.
Paralyzed bride to marry one year after accident
A year ago, I remember turning on my favorite news station and hearing the story of a young couple, preparing for their wedding day, surrounded by tragedy.
The bride-to-be was enjoying her bachelorette party, when one of her bridesmaids pushed her into the shallow end of a pool. She immediately knew something was wrong and desperately asked her friends to call 911.
She was paralyzed. It was one month before she was set to say I do.
But on air the couple seem relatively unscathed. You could see the hurt on their faces, but behind those looks was something more - true, unfaltering love.
They didn't blame the bridesmaid or even seem angry with her. In fact, she was still on the guest list. They recognized this event as a tragic accident, one that would reshape their entire life together.
The groom-to-be said he never once thought, "What am I going to do?" only, "What are we going to do?".
Naysayers may say "aww, how sweet" and go about their lives. This story, however, struck me to the core. It made me check myself. How many times since Nick and I exchanged our vows had I joked or threatened divorce knowing I never meant it? How many times had I criticized instead of discussed or supported? How many times had I nagged about something petty in the grand scheme of things?
I don't doubt this couple won't face their fair share of challenges. But regardless of the challenges they will face, it's easy to see the tremendous amount of support they have for one another.
It's been a year since this couples life together was shattered. They've picked up the pieces and never looked back. In good times and in bad...in sickness and in health. Those vows are more than just idle words. They are a testament and a promise to one another.
I don't know this couple and most likely will never meet them, but they have given me an invaluable gift. One that I can use over and over again. It's a reminder how fragile love and life can be. When you know you have met your soul mate, your true love to never, ever take that for granted.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
7.18.2011
Battle of the Ages
Everyone has their favorite go-to outfit. That outfit you know looks good. You wear it when you don't know what to wear, you haven't done laundry, you're running late, you don't want to iron and sometimes just because.
My husband has his, too and he wears it everywhere. This favorite outfit is, "comfortable" and has been worn to family gatherings, barbecues, graduation parties, get-togethers with friends, lounging around the house, on vacation...you name it.
And he doesn't mind if we spend time with the same people two weekends in a row either. That good ol' outfit has to come along.
Now let's get this straight. We have an enormous walk-in closet and he takes up half of it. We also share our dresser equally 50/50. So this outfit is not for lack of options.
I've come to despise those green plaid flannel shorts with accents of slate gray, purple and yellow coupled with his black and gray graphically enhanced Chicago Blackhawks shirt with red Blackhawks logo.
He swears to me, "It matches! See black and black." Or my personal favorite, "You can't tell me this doesn't look good together." Well honey actually I can.
I was hoping his colorblind grandfather passed this genetic trait down to him. No such luck. It's just his favorite two pieces of clothing he decided went well together.
A few weeks ago (before this outfit became a regular occurrence), Nick noticed a small hole in his shorts. He was devastated. Trying to squelch those crushed feelings, I offered to sew it back together.
What was I thinking?
He was elated! And the plaid shorts (and of course the Blackhawks shirt) began to surface more and more frequently.
I started to think if I snuck the shorts and shirt to the bottom of the laundry basket and said, "Oops. No honey they haven't been washed" that would solve my problem. But it never failed, the man who never plans what he's wearing to an event, would ask, "Have you seen my shorts and shirt (knowing I knew exactly the outfit he was looking for). I need to put it in the washer before we go to ___________."
Ugh!
I never wanted to be the wife who told her husband what he had to wear. I tried reverse psychology, saying certain outfits looked great on him, hoping they would become another favorite. I have begged and pleaded for him to pleeeeeaaaaassssse wear something else. I have even contemplated bribery. It was all in vain. He hasn't budged, not even an inch.
At the most recent family party, Nick realized there was a small hole along the seam again. As the night progressed the hole became gradually bigger and bigger and bigger until it ran the entire length of one side of his shorts.
Victory!
I'm left in a conundrum. Do I take out my sewing machine and be the hero? Or do I say they're beyond repair and save Nick from his novice fashion ways? Then all I'd have left to tackle was that infamous Blackhawks shirt. One down, one to go right?
The issues of married life...sheesh.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
My husband has his, too and he wears it everywhere. This favorite outfit is, "comfortable" and has been worn to family gatherings, barbecues, graduation parties, get-togethers with friends, lounging around the house, on vacation...you name it.
And he doesn't mind if we spend time with the same people two weekends in a row either. That good ol' outfit has to come along.
Now let's get this straight. We have an enormous walk-in closet and he takes up half of it. We also share our dresser equally 50/50. So this outfit is not for lack of options.
I've come to despise those green plaid flannel shorts with accents of slate gray, purple and yellow coupled with his black and gray graphically enhanced Chicago Blackhawks shirt with red Blackhawks logo.
He swears to me, "It matches! See black and black." Or my personal favorite, "You can't tell me this doesn't look good together." Well honey actually I can.
I was hoping his colorblind grandfather passed this genetic trait down to him. No such luck. It's just his favorite two pieces of clothing he decided went well together.
A few weeks ago (before this outfit became a regular occurrence), Nick noticed a small hole in his shorts. He was devastated. Trying to squelch those crushed feelings, I offered to sew it back together.
What was I thinking?
He was elated! And the plaid shorts (and of course the Blackhawks shirt) began to surface more and more frequently.
I started to think if I snuck the shorts and shirt to the bottom of the laundry basket and said, "Oops. No honey they haven't been washed" that would solve my problem. But it never failed, the man who never plans what he's wearing to an event, would ask, "Have you seen my shorts and shirt (knowing I knew exactly the outfit he was looking for). I need to put it in the washer before we go to ___________."
Ugh!
I never wanted to be the wife who told her husband what he had to wear. I tried reverse psychology, saying certain outfits looked great on him, hoping they would become another favorite. I have begged and pleaded for him to pleeeeeaaaaassssse wear something else. I have even contemplated bribery. It was all in vain. He hasn't budged, not even an inch.
At the most recent family party, Nick realized there was a small hole along the seam again. As the night progressed the hole became gradually bigger and bigger and bigger until it ran the entire length of one side of his shorts.
Victory!
I'm left in a conundrum. Do I take out my sewing machine and be the hero? Or do I say they're beyond repair and save Nick from his novice fashion ways? Then all I'd have left to tackle was that infamous Blackhawks shirt. One down, one to go right?
The issues of married life...sheesh.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
5.26.2011
Cheap.
Anyone that knows me well knows I love money. My father-in-law jokes that I probably have the first dollar I ever made. My grandmother tells me to, "Stop being a miser and take your husband out to dinner!" How's that for old-fashioned?
Poor Nick...I make him eat leftovers, I shop generic and I love a great deal. I was ecstatic when I found four blade disposable razors for Nick to try. They were $4 for 8 of them instead of $9 for 1 with two cartridges...my penny pinching self was over the moon.
When Nick opened his drawer in the bathroom he said, "Thanks for picking up razors. I was running low. Where did you find these?" I paused and said, "I hope you like them. I got a great deal."
I could see the skepticism. The thoughts running through his mind. Great my wife "got a deal" again.
Now don't judge me! They didn't fall of a truck. I didn't find them in the clearance bin. I didn't pick them up at a sketchy, everything is slightly lopsided dollar store.
I assured him that they were four blade they had to be good. The next day was time for a shave. He got himself all situated and ready to go. He grabbed the new FOUR BLADE razor out of the package and got to work removing all remnants of that five o'clock shadow.
I love the feel of his face and the smell of his aftershave after he's freshly shaven. What can I say? That baby face is incredibly sexy. But as he walked out of the bathroom I saw the results of my great deal. Tiny bits of tissue paper stuck on my blots of blood were strewn across his face.
His eyes were not accusatory. I felt guilty beyond belief. I of course was not the one who shaved his face, however I did supply the weapon.
He looked sad. He looked worried. All I could think of was I should really know his blood type for moments like this.
I couldn't help but crack a smile at the look on his face. I apologized profusely. Nick asked with the meekest voice, "I know they were a good deal, but you think we could just toss them and stick to the ones that work pleeeeaaaasssseeee?"
Poor Nick....he had to sacrifice his face for $5. His scabbed face made him look like a recent chicken pox victim.
But I gained more than $5 in my pocket...I got some pretty good razors for my legs!
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
Poor Nick...I make him eat leftovers, I shop generic and I love a great deal. I was ecstatic when I found four blade disposable razors for Nick to try. They were $4 for 8 of them instead of $9 for 1 with two cartridges...my penny pinching self was over the moon.
When Nick opened his drawer in the bathroom he said, "Thanks for picking up razors. I was running low. Where did you find these?" I paused and said, "I hope you like them. I got a great deal."
I could see the skepticism. The thoughts running through his mind. Great my wife "got a deal" again.
Now don't judge me! They didn't fall of a truck. I didn't find them in the clearance bin. I didn't pick them up at a sketchy, everything is slightly lopsided dollar store.
I assured him that they were four blade they had to be good. The next day was time for a shave. He got himself all situated and ready to go. He grabbed the new FOUR BLADE razor out of the package and got to work removing all remnants of that five o'clock shadow.
I love the feel of his face and the smell of his aftershave after he's freshly shaven. What can I say? That baby face is incredibly sexy. But as he walked out of the bathroom I saw the results of my great deal. Tiny bits of tissue paper stuck on my blots of blood were strewn across his face.
His eyes were not accusatory. I felt guilty beyond belief. I of course was not the one who shaved his face, however I did supply the weapon.
He looked sad. He looked worried. All I could think of was I should really know his blood type for moments like this.
I couldn't help but crack a smile at the look on his face. I apologized profusely. Nick asked with the meekest voice, "I know they were a good deal, but you think we could just toss them and stick to the ones that work pleeeeaaaasssseeee?"
Poor Nick....he had to sacrifice his face for $5. His scabbed face made him look like a recent chicken pox victim.
But I gained more than $5 in my pocket...I got some pretty good razors for my legs!
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
5.23.2011
Deep rooted hatred.
We've lived in our townhome for nearly nine months (something about nine months always makes me shudder). We've painted the entire house, decorated and accessorized just about every nook and cranny.
I thought for sure we'd have more arguments about making our house a home. It's bound to happen somewhere between paint samples, throw pillows and pillar candles and creating the ideal man cave. Thankfully, we've made it through that process with all appendages still intact.
Now we're on to landscaping. We have a private courtyard and a modest backyard to make all our own. I hate making choices and now I have to choose grass seed or sod, white diamond rock or mulch, perennials or annuals, flowers or bushes...ugh.
It's exciting to complete another layer to our house. To say, "I did that". Or at the very least, "Nick did that and I did a fabulous job supervising."
Our neighbors recently hired a landscape company to redo their entire frontyard, driveway paver stone, courtyard, etc. So I thought we could borrow a few ideas and do it ourselves.
I guess that comes from being a cliche woman who loves HGTV and DIY Network. Anytime Nick walks into our family room and one of those channels is on I see the look of terror on his face, "What is she going to have us do now?"
After discussing a few things we liked Nick decided he'd get started one day while I was at work. While I'm sure he wanted to get a head start, part of me has an inkling that says he was avoiding being "supervised".
He removed the old, ugly, pinky-coral colored rock from the pathway and then decided to make a gametime decision. See there were (note: past tense) these hostas planted along the pathway. While they were probably a good idea at the time they were planted they grew of course. And they grew and they grew and they grew. They practically took over the pathway through our courtyard and left about six inches worth of clear walking space. If you veered from that path you were guaranteed to have to trudge through what felt like a jungle along your feet.
I had said how hostas were such a hearty plant they would make a great filler in our backyard. Nick had some deep rooted (no pun intended) hatred for those hostas and said he just wanted them gone.
We went back and forth, back and forth about what to do with the plants. Dig them up and pitch them? Dig them up and donate them? Dig them up and transplant them? Again - choices to be made.
I thought we had decided we would put them in the backyard. I came home to a clear pathway prepped for solar lights and new rock. The pile of old rock was left to be picked up...but the hostas were nowhere to be found.
I was excited to get them planted in the backyard. Add some greenery to a blase landscape. When I asked where they were Nick looked coy and claimed he didn't know. He changed the subject quickly and went about his business. I knew something was up.
The mystery of the disappearing hostas baffled me for a few days until I made my way into the garage to take out the recycling. As I walked over to the recycling container I saw it - a weak, limp little hosta leaf poking out of the garbage can. I peered over the edge I saw the damage and the landscaping inhumanity! He mutilated those poor hostas! The hostas were torn to bits leaving no chance for a transplant.
Determined to have not a single hosta in his landscaping plan, my husband took matters into his own hands. He was determined to have his way. He would stop at nothing. Now I have to live with my husband - the plant killer.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
I thought for sure we'd have more arguments about making our house a home. It's bound to happen somewhere between paint samples, throw pillows and pillar candles and creating the ideal man cave. Thankfully, we've made it through that process with all appendages still intact.
Now we're on to landscaping. We have a private courtyard and a modest backyard to make all our own. I hate making choices and now I have to choose grass seed or sod, white diamond rock or mulch, perennials or annuals, flowers or bushes...ugh.
It's exciting to complete another layer to our house. To say, "I did that". Or at the very least, "Nick did that and I did a fabulous job supervising."
Our neighbors recently hired a landscape company to redo their entire frontyard, driveway paver stone, courtyard, etc. So I thought we could borrow a few ideas and do it ourselves.
I guess that comes from being a cliche woman who loves HGTV and DIY Network. Anytime Nick walks into our family room and one of those channels is on I see the look of terror on his face, "What is she going to have us do now?"
After discussing a few things we liked Nick decided he'd get started one day while I was at work. While I'm sure he wanted to get a head start, part of me has an inkling that says he was avoiding being "supervised".
He removed the old, ugly, pinky-coral colored rock from the pathway and then decided to make a gametime decision. See there were (note: past tense) these hostas planted along the pathway. While they were probably a good idea at the time they were planted they grew of course. And they grew and they grew and they grew. They practically took over the pathway through our courtyard and left about six inches worth of clear walking space. If you veered from that path you were guaranteed to have to trudge through what felt like a jungle along your feet.
I had said how hostas were such a hearty plant they would make a great filler in our backyard. Nick had some deep rooted (no pun intended) hatred for those hostas and said he just wanted them gone.
We went back and forth, back and forth about what to do with the plants. Dig them up and pitch them? Dig them up and donate them? Dig them up and transplant them? Again - choices to be made.
I thought we had decided we would put them in the backyard. I came home to a clear pathway prepped for solar lights and new rock. The pile of old rock was left to be picked up...but the hostas were nowhere to be found.
I was excited to get them planted in the backyard. Add some greenery to a blase landscape. When I asked where they were Nick looked coy and claimed he didn't know. He changed the subject quickly and went about his business. I knew something was up.
The mystery of the disappearing hostas baffled me for a few days until I made my way into the garage to take out the recycling. As I walked over to the recycling container I saw it - a weak, limp little hosta leaf poking out of the garbage can. I peered over the edge I saw the damage and the landscaping inhumanity! He mutilated those poor hostas! The hostas were torn to bits leaving no chance for a transplant.
Determined to have not a single hosta in his landscaping plan, my husband took matters into his own hands. He was determined to have his way. He would stop at nothing. Now I have to live with my husband - the plant killer.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
5.18.2011
Seven year itch
[If you're not a hopeless romantic do not proceed to read this article]
Sometimes it's hard to wrap my mind around...Nick and I have been together for seven years.
When we started dating we had our driver's licenses for a year. We were trying to decide what colleges to go to. My biggest concern at the time was whether or not he'd make a fun prom date. I wasn't looking for a potential husband that's for sure.
And somehow seven years have flown by. People may think it's crazy to be with someone so long when you're only in your mid-twenties. My response is it's not for everyone. Not everyone can handle literally growing up then growing old with someone. I consider myself lucky.
We haven't missed out on life, but enhanced each others. We've experienced our fair share of challenges, heartaches and disappointments. But it's what you do in those moments and in those tests that make all the difference.
We're at a time technically we're suppose to be experiencing the "seven year itch"...I know it's a little difficult to have when you're a newlywed, but I have to say I've never felt closer to him.
We talk more. Laugh more. Cry more. (eh and other things more).
But the one thing I love the most is that we're still learning about each other. There's so much to discover. I know we have a lot more growing up to do.
My itch is to enjoy this adventure of life together even more than we already have. Challenge each other. Try new things. And most of all don't get comfortable in the norm. Have a routine, but mix it up from time to time. Dare to be a different type of couple.
With Nick, forever isn't long enough.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
Sometimes it's hard to wrap my mind around...Nick and I have been together for seven years.
When we started dating we had our driver's licenses for a year. We were trying to decide what colleges to go to. My biggest concern at the time was whether or not he'd make a fun prom date. I wasn't looking for a potential husband that's for sure.
And somehow seven years have flown by. People may think it's crazy to be with someone so long when you're only in your mid-twenties. My response is it's not for everyone. Not everyone can handle literally growing up then growing old with someone. I consider myself lucky.
We haven't missed out on life, but enhanced each others. We've experienced our fair share of challenges, heartaches and disappointments. But it's what you do in those moments and in those tests that make all the difference.
We're at a time technically we're suppose to be experiencing the "seven year itch"...I know it's a little difficult to have when you're a newlywed, but I have to say I've never felt closer to him.
We talk more. Laugh more. Cry more. (eh and other things more).
But the one thing I love the most is that we're still learning about each other. There's so much to discover. I know we have a lot more growing up to do.
My itch is to enjoy this adventure of life together even more than we already have. Challenge each other. Try new things. And most of all don't get comfortable in the norm. Have a routine, but mix it up from time to time. Dare to be a different type of couple.
With Nick, forever isn't long enough.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
4.14.2011
I may have made a fatal error.
I'm a practical woman, always trying to do the "right" thing, make the best choices...
That practicality translates to just about all aspects of my life.
This year for Nick's birthday I decided to throw that all out the window. Since we started dating I bought countless outfits, made cutesy little homemade gifts and even socks and boxers from time to time.
I wanted to shock him with something big! (Don't worry I wasn't dropping the "You're going to be a daddy" bomb on him, at least not this birthday). So I decided to buy him a PS3 because it was...well practical. Not only is it a gaming console, but a DVD player and Blu-ray player in one. I knew he'd been dying for one!
Fatal error.
I never once worried about another person or work coming between us. In fact, I never thought anything would. That was until the day I brought a PS3 into our house. Now the background noise to my life includes roaring crowds, gunshots, beeping, buzzing, etc.
The boy at heart has definitely surfaced. Nick hurries through dinner to get to his game. He plans his evenings around the game that's due back the next day. He calls his friends when he needs to gloat about beating a game. He stays up until all hours of the night and then stealthily climbs into bed, trying not to wake me up.
What's funny is when I was picking up his gift the guy working the counter was attempting to answer some questions for me. He asked, "So is he a big gamer?" I responded, "O no not at all."
Was I wrong with that assumption? Is he turning into a gulp...gamer!?!?! Eh, I'm being my good ol' dramatic self. Heck, I haven't come home to him looking sleep deprived with a headset on off in some virtual war zone...yet at least.
If this is the worst thing I have to deal with I think I can handle it. But I can't make any promises that one day Nick is going to be all geared up to play and he won't be able to find his controllers.
Oops...the dog ate them?
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
That practicality translates to just about all aspects of my life.
This year for Nick's birthday I decided to throw that all out the window. Since we started dating I bought countless outfits, made cutesy little homemade gifts and even socks and boxers from time to time.
I wanted to shock him with something big! (Don't worry I wasn't dropping the "You're going to be a daddy" bomb on him, at least not this birthday). So I decided to buy him a PS3 because it was...well practical. Not only is it a gaming console, but a DVD player and Blu-ray player in one. I knew he'd been dying for one!
Fatal error.
I never once worried about another person or work coming between us. In fact, I never thought anything would. That was until the day I brought a PS3 into our house. Now the background noise to my life includes roaring crowds, gunshots, beeping, buzzing, etc.
The boy at heart has definitely surfaced. Nick hurries through dinner to get to his game. He plans his evenings around the game that's due back the next day. He calls his friends when he needs to gloat about beating a game. He stays up until all hours of the night and then stealthily climbs into bed, trying not to wake me up.
What's funny is when I was picking up his gift the guy working the counter was attempting to answer some questions for me. He asked, "So is he a big gamer?" I responded, "O no not at all."
Was I wrong with that assumption? Is he turning into a gulp...gamer!?!?! Eh, I'm being my good ol' dramatic self. Heck, I haven't come home to him looking sleep deprived with a headset on off in some virtual war zone...yet at least.
If this is the worst thing I have to deal with I think I can handle it. But I can't make any promises that one day Nick is going to be all geared up to play and he won't be able to find his controllers.
Oops...the dog ate them?
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
3.25.2011
Did I marry a stranger?
Some days I wonder if the man I married is really the Nick I've known since the fifth grade and dated for nearly seven years. I wonder if when I wasn't looking the Nick I knew was exchanged for this man I now call my husband.
I've discovered the man I lovingly call my husband, the one I said forever to, the one I hope to start a family is not who I thought he was.
How did he hide this so well? It was masked between homemade cards, flowers, thoughtful gifts and all the romanticism in between. He's hilarious, fun loving, determined and outgoing. Sure, he put on a good front running track and playing hockey, but deep down a different side of him was trying to break the surface.
And as soon as I said those two fateful words, "I do" that other side won this impending battle.
For the past six months I've ignored little warning signs until I couldn't ignore it any longer.
The jig was up tonight.
Nick told me he wanted to purchase a gun. Coming from a family of water fowl hunters it didn't bother me. He has the proper licenses, training, etc. No worries on my part.
But then he turned the computer screen toward me and showed me not just any gun, but an assault rifle. The only response I could muster was, "WHOA! What would you need that for?"
For those that don't know this is a gun ready for battle. This is a serious weapon that means business.
This was a prime opportunity to say something to the affect, "To protect my family." Want to know what his response was?
"Well in the event we need to form an urban rebel force and had to fight off zombies, we'd be prepared!"
I was absolutely floored. With one response I discovered I married a closet nerd. An uber-imaginative, kooky, fantasy creating, zombie fearing, gunslinging nerd.
I say this all in good fun and humor. While I'm still learning a little about Nick and the couple we've become I still get a little surprised from time to time. Just when I think we have a routine and things are falling into a rhythm Nick brings me back to our reality.
He's a nerd, but he's my nerd.
I've discovered the man I lovingly call my husband, the one I said forever to, the one I hope to start a family is not who I thought he was.
How did he hide this so well? It was masked between homemade cards, flowers, thoughtful gifts and all the romanticism in between. He's hilarious, fun loving, determined and outgoing. Sure, he put on a good front running track and playing hockey, but deep down a different side of him was trying to break the surface.
And as soon as I said those two fateful words, "I do" that other side won this impending battle.
For the past six months I've ignored little warning signs until I couldn't ignore it any longer.
The jig was up tonight.
Nick told me he wanted to purchase a gun. Coming from a family of water fowl hunters it didn't bother me. He has the proper licenses, training, etc. No worries on my part.
But then he turned the computer screen toward me and showed me not just any gun, but an assault rifle. The only response I could muster was, "WHOA! What would you need that for?"
For those that don't know this is a gun ready for battle. This is a serious weapon that means business.
This was a prime opportunity to say something to the affect, "To protect my family." Want to know what his response was?
"Well in the event we need to form an urban rebel force and had to fight off zombies, we'd be prepared!"
I was absolutely floored. With one response I discovered I married a closet nerd. An uber-imaginative, kooky, fantasy creating, zombie fearing, gunslinging nerd.
I say this all in good fun and humor. While I'm still learning a little about Nick and the couple we've become I still get a little surprised from time to time. Just when I think we have a routine and things are falling into a rhythm Nick brings me back to our reality.
He's a nerd, but he's my nerd.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
3.17.2011
Not at a loss for words.
A typical pre-wedding conversation with anyone and everyone that knew I was engaged went something like this, "How are you? How's wedding planning?". I'd respond with some combination of good, fine, great, okay...Although thoughtful it got old and served as a stressful reminder when planning wasn't going smooth.
There were days when I wanted to belt out, "Since you asked, we can't find a pastor who is right for us and our future, our photobooth company just bailed on us, the hairstylist has a graduation now, my jewelry store just fired their engraver and have I mentioned I absolutely hate making decisions."
When you do that you get labeled either 1. crazy 2. a bridezilla or 3. a crazy bridezilla.
Fast forward and now its "How are you? How's married life?". This time around I wanted to put a little more thought into my response. I know for a fact no one wants to hear me gush about how much I love married life, how much I adore my husband...blah blah blah. Now I'm sure some individuals are ecstatic to see us happy, but others I know are asking the question because it seems like the normal, nice thing to ask.
Just being realistic here! You can't fool me.
So I got to thinking. After the first few times of blushing and gushing and saying "Great." I decided to mix things up. When asked now I respond with a quick, "Well he's still alive." Since I'm not a funny person and I don't tell jokes this is all I got people and it works!
Everyone always laughs (except for one woman who I will keep anonymous who responded "Umm...okay" but that's all right because I never liked her anyway).
People know marriage is work. People know their husbands can be a pain in the...well you know the rest. I'm sure some individuals wonder how they ever survived that first year. Although my response wasn't that premeditated (I was really only attempting to be funny, which takes a lot of work on my part) I think it's relatable. Funny how I can read the look on married peoples' faces, "I hear ya!" and "I'm sure my wife says the same thing."
Please don't misinterpret this. I could sit and gloat for hours on end. When it comes to how much I love my husband I'm not at a loss for words. I like my light-hearted response and while it's getting people to laugh with me (and not at me lol) I'm going to run with it!
There were days when I wanted to belt out, "Since you asked, we can't find a pastor who is right for us and our future, our photobooth company just bailed on us, the hairstylist has a graduation now, my jewelry store just fired their engraver and have I mentioned I absolutely hate making decisions."
When you do that you get labeled either 1. crazy 2. a bridezilla or 3. a crazy bridezilla.
Fast forward and now its "How are you? How's married life?". This time around I wanted to put a little more thought into my response. I know for a fact no one wants to hear me gush about how much I love married life, how much I adore my husband...blah blah blah. Now I'm sure some individuals are ecstatic to see us happy, but others I know are asking the question because it seems like the normal, nice thing to ask.
Just being realistic here! You can't fool me.
So I got to thinking. After the first few times of blushing and gushing and saying "Great." I decided to mix things up. When asked now I respond with a quick, "Well he's still alive." Since I'm not a funny person and I don't tell jokes this is all I got people and it works!
Everyone always laughs (except for one woman who I will keep anonymous who responded "Umm...okay" but that's all right because I never liked her anyway).
People know marriage is work. People know their husbands can be a pain in the...well you know the rest. I'm sure some individuals wonder how they ever survived that first year. Although my response wasn't that premeditated (I was really only attempting to be funny, which takes a lot of work on my part) I think it's relatable. Funny how I can read the look on married peoples' faces, "I hear ya!" and "I'm sure my wife says the same thing."
Please don't misinterpret this. I could sit and gloat for hours on end. When it comes to how much I love my husband I'm not at a loss for words. I like my light-hearted response and while it's getting people to laugh with me (and not at me lol) I'm going to run with it!
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
2.24.2011
Five for fighting
I don't know how many times Nick and I have heard, "You know if you keep fighting like that you won't last more than six months..."
Well here we are nearly seven years later going strong. While I don't agree with the part of the statement that says we won't last I will openly admit that Nick and I do fight. No couple is as sweet as a Hallmark card no matter how they may appear.
Now let me clarify. When I say "fight" I mean it in the healthiest sense of the word - to argue or debate. This is not a screaming on the top of your lungs match, there is NO name calling (except maybe in our own heads, which we keep completely to ourselves and will most likely take to the grave) and of course not one iota of physical abuse.
To argue, debate or fight as I put it, is normal to me. It reminds me that although we are married, we are still individuals with our own opinions, thoughts and feelings. I'm proud to say that although Nick has influenced my life I'm still me. I have a sense of identity all my own regardless if I'm a wife.
I know I'm not the easiest person to live with or the easiest person to be married to. I'm opinionated and I love to get the last word in. The only problem is I don't have a quick wit and can't fire of comebacks left and right so sometimes after a fight is more than over I'll come back 20 minutes (sometimes even 40 minutes) later with something real clever and we're back to square one all over again.
My big claim to fame is when I know I'm right and I use Google to prove it. The computer is banned in our house during a fight. It's just because Nick knows I'll win! I love bringing evidence to the table!
I don't want to fight all the time of course. Never living together is making that feat a little challenging. I'm learning to really pick my battles though. For example, last night debating over whether or not I always make white gravy was incredibly important. It was!
Well here we are nearly seven years later going strong. While I don't agree with the part of the statement that says we won't last I will openly admit that Nick and I do fight. No couple is as sweet as a Hallmark card no matter how they may appear.
Now let me clarify. When I say "fight" I mean it in the healthiest sense of the word - to argue or debate. This is not a screaming on the top of your lungs match, there is NO name calling (except maybe in our own heads, which we keep completely to ourselves and will most likely take to the grave) and of course not one iota of physical abuse.
To argue, debate or fight as I put it, is normal to me. It reminds me that although we are married, we are still individuals with our own opinions, thoughts and feelings. I'm proud to say that although Nick has influenced my life I'm still me. I have a sense of identity all my own regardless if I'm a wife.
I know I'm not the easiest person to live with or the easiest person to be married to. I'm opinionated and I love to get the last word in. The only problem is I don't have a quick wit and can't fire of comebacks left and right so sometimes after a fight is more than over I'll come back 20 minutes (sometimes even 40 minutes) later with something real clever and we're back to square one all over again.
My big claim to fame is when I know I'm right and I use Google to prove it. The computer is banned in our house during a fight. It's just because Nick knows I'll win! I love bringing evidence to the table!
I don't want to fight all the time of course. Never living together is making that feat a little challenging. I'm learning to really pick my battles though. For example, last night debating over whether or not I always make white gravy was incredibly important. It was!
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
2.09.2011
Jumping the gun
I'm a worry wart with an active imagination. It's a dangerous combination that I'm sure will give me premature gray hairs before I hit 30.
So when Nick told me what time he was going to be home and then was running very, very late my mind started to race. I tried to keep myself busy...I watched tv, made dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, checked Facebook (two, maybe three times), sent out a few e-mails, even checked my work e-mail. I wanted to call him, but then in the back of my mind I told myself, "No. Don't be one of those naggy, whiny wives."
Ugh..."When are you coming home? Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with?..."
But then road conditions had been terrible so my mind went to work yet again.
Well Nick made it home just fine, late, but fine. My nerves were a little haywire and I was upset he hadn't called or used someone else's phone when his died.
And to top it all off I was late, too. Not late to get home, but ya know late. The time of the month came and nothing happened. (I do have to note that by medical standards I wasn't really, truly late just later than what I was use to. That's where my imagination starts giving me trouble.)
So needless to say Nick being late, in the actual sense of the word, sent me into overdrive.
I was huffing and puffing through the kitchen telling him how worried I was, how upset he would be if I did this...I went on and on and on and on. Then out of nowhere I blurt out, "And I haven't started my period" as I immediately burst into tears.
Nick was dumbfounded. Here he was getting a verbal lashing as he was apologizing profusely when the conversation takes a complete 180 and he finds out his wife may be pregnant.
I turned into a blubbering idiot as Nick gave me the biggest hug. All I could say was, "But I don't want to be pregnant".
Since before we were ever married we said we wanted to wait at least a few years before we even tried to start a family. We love spending time with our friends who have babies and kids, but we always have said we're not ready yet.
I didn't want parenthood thrust upon us when we weren't planning. I looked at Nick pitifully with mascara running down my cheeks and said randomly, "Can we take a baby to Europe?" As if for some reason our child would not be able to obtain his or her passport.
Within a five minute tear-filled moment my mind had flashed to how we would be able to travel like we wanted to where would we put a nursery to my growing belly and swollen ankles to labor and delivery to losing baby weight. I was a wreck.
Then Nick looked at me and laughed (nervously), "It would be pretty cool if you were. We've been married a while now." A shift in our relationship happened that night. I honestly knew right then and there that no matter what the outcome we COULD do this, not only because we would have no other choice but to become parents, but because we'd be in it together.
I know pretty cheesy, huh?
I hate to cut into the suspense, but we found out there will be no little Nichole or Nick brought into this world...a day later. All that emotion and chaos! Talk about jumping the gun.
So when Nick told me what time he was going to be home and then was running very, very late my mind started to race. I tried to keep myself busy...I watched tv, made dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, checked Facebook (two, maybe three times), sent out a few e-mails, even checked my work e-mail. I wanted to call him, but then in the back of my mind I told myself, "No. Don't be one of those naggy, whiny wives."
Ugh..."When are you coming home? Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with?..."
But then road conditions had been terrible so my mind went to work yet again.
Well Nick made it home just fine, late, but fine. My nerves were a little haywire and I was upset he hadn't called or used someone else's phone when his died.
And to top it all off I was late, too. Not late to get home, but ya know late. The time of the month came and nothing happened. (I do have to note that by medical standards I wasn't really, truly late just later than what I was use to. That's where my imagination starts giving me trouble.)
So needless to say Nick being late, in the actual sense of the word, sent me into overdrive.
I was huffing and puffing through the kitchen telling him how worried I was, how upset he would be if I did this...I went on and on and on and on. Then out of nowhere I blurt out, "And I haven't started my period" as I immediately burst into tears.
Nick was dumbfounded. Here he was getting a verbal lashing as he was apologizing profusely when the conversation takes a complete 180 and he finds out his wife may be pregnant.
I turned into a blubbering idiot as Nick gave me the biggest hug. All I could say was, "But I don't want to be pregnant".
Since before we were ever married we said we wanted to wait at least a few years before we even tried to start a family. We love spending time with our friends who have babies and kids, but we always have said we're not ready yet.
I didn't want parenthood thrust upon us when we weren't planning. I looked at Nick pitifully with mascara running down my cheeks and said randomly, "Can we take a baby to Europe?" As if for some reason our child would not be able to obtain his or her passport.
Within a five minute tear-filled moment my mind had flashed to how we would be able to travel like we wanted to where would we put a nursery to my growing belly and swollen ankles to labor and delivery to losing baby weight. I was a wreck.
Then Nick looked at me and laughed (nervously), "It would be pretty cool if you were. We've been married a while now." A shift in our relationship happened that night. I honestly knew right then and there that no matter what the outcome we COULD do this, not only because we would have no other choice but to become parents, but because we'd be in it together.
I know pretty cheesy, huh?
I hate to cut into the suspense, but we found out there will be no little Nichole or Nick brought into this world...a day later. All that emotion and chaos! Talk about jumping the gun.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
2.08.2011
Sleeping with my husband
Sleeping with my husband is an adventure every night. And by sleeping I mean really sleeping.
It started off with his incessant snoring. For weeks post-wedding I would be jolted awake by what sounded like an engine starting up in my ear.
Adapt and overcome...adapt and overcome. Eventually my light sleeper ways subsided.
While I'm not a snorer (although Nick may say otherwise) I'm a talker. And I've learned Nick has a lot to say too.
Just when I thought I could finally sleep soundly I was snapped out of a dead sleep when Nick jerked upright and yelled, "What the hell?". Just as quickly as he sat up he settled back down, not even opening his eyes. A few nights later he rolled over to my side of the bed to ask me to, "Please close the trophies."
The trophies? Really love...what did we win?
Now this bed time banter isn't all one-sided. I've woken Nick up a time or two when I've stolen all the blankets or decided to sleep diagonally across the bed.
Just one of married life's many blessings. Should have registered for the California king and some ear plugs maybe?
It started off with his incessant snoring. For weeks post-wedding I would be jolted awake by what sounded like an engine starting up in my ear.
Adapt and overcome...adapt and overcome. Eventually my light sleeper ways subsided.
While I'm not a snorer (although Nick may say otherwise) I'm a talker. And I've learned Nick has a lot to say too.
Just when I thought I could finally sleep soundly I was snapped out of a dead sleep when Nick jerked upright and yelled, "What the hell?". Just as quickly as he sat up he settled back down, not even opening his eyes. A few nights later he rolled over to my side of the bed to ask me to, "Please close the trophies."
The trophies? Really love...what did we win?
Now this bed time banter isn't all one-sided. I've woken Nick up a time or two when I've stolen all the blankets or decided to sleep diagonally across the bed.
Just one of married life's many blessings. Should have registered for the California king and some ear plugs maybe?
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
1.12.2011
Go to bed laughing
I recently wrote an article for a local niche publication where I was instructed to interview long-time married couples on how they "made love last".
It was one of those cutesy fluff pieces that make you feel good after writing it. As a newlywed, I was eager to hear what these couples had to say.
I was given the information for a gentleman nearing his 80s who had been married for 55 years. That's more than Nick and my age combined. He was the sweetest, cutest old man. By the end of the conversation I knew about his time in the military, how he met his wife, how many children and grandchildren he had (he wishes he had great grandchildren) what each of them do for a living as well as their spouses not to mention his baby sister married a bee keeper and he does not care to be stung.
While these might seem the ramblings of a proud old man, I saw a man happier than ever with the choices he made and incredibly grateful for the woman he had by his side along for the ride. He called her his baby and said his advice to couples would be to go to bed laughing every night.
I had never heard that before. Of course you always hear, "never go to bed mad"...but go to bed laughing. I loved the thought. I started to think back on all the times Nick has made me laugh and I knew that kind old man was on to something.
I thought I'd share one of my recent favorites:
Christmas morning was different for us. It was our first Christmas morning together as a married couple. We had finished opening gifts when Nick decided he wanted to try on his new shoes I bought him - black, white and gray DCs (no he doesn't think he's a skater, he just likes Rob Dyrdek and his shoes). A t-shirt, plaid pajama pants and white socks was not exactly the perfect ensemble to pair with the shoes. I glanced over and Nick had tucked in his shirt, pulled up his pants to his chest revealing those lovely white socks with black shoes and decided to dance around our living room singing the hamster car commercial theme song, "You can get with this or you can get with that...". I about died! I only wish I had the video camera on.
Yes this is the man I married. He made Erkel look like a god.
It was one of those cutesy fluff pieces that make you feel good after writing it. As a newlywed, I was eager to hear what these couples had to say.
I was given the information for a gentleman nearing his 80s who had been married for 55 years. That's more than Nick and my age combined. He was the sweetest, cutest old man. By the end of the conversation I knew about his time in the military, how he met his wife, how many children and grandchildren he had (he wishes he had great grandchildren) what each of them do for a living as well as their spouses not to mention his baby sister married a bee keeper and he does not care to be stung.
While these might seem the ramblings of a proud old man, I saw a man happier than ever with the choices he made and incredibly grateful for the woman he had by his side along for the ride. He called her his baby and said his advice to couples would be to go to bed laughing every night.
I had never heard that before. Of course you always hear, "never go to bed mad"...but go to bed laughing. I loved the thought. I started to think back on all the times Nick has made me laugh and I knew that kind old man was on to something.
I thought I'd share one of my recent favorites:
Christmas morning was different for us. It was our first Christmas morning together as a married couple. We had finished opening gifts when Nick decided he wanted to try on his new shoes I bought him - black, white and gray DCs (no he doesn't think he's a skater, he just likes Rob Dyrdek and his shoes). A t-shirt, plaid pajama pants and white socks was not exactly the perfect ensemble to pair with the shoes. I glanced over and Nick had tucked in his shirt, pulled up his pants to his chest revealing those lovely white socks with black shoes and decided to dance around our living room singing the hamster car commercial theme song, "You can get with this or you can get with that...". I about died! I only wish I had the video camera on.
Yes this is the man I married. He made Erkel look like a god.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
Man of the House
After four months of marriage, we're settling into our house. Our first place has been great and the neighborhood is just as nice! Living in a townhouse has been a first for the two of us...we never lived in an apartment either*...so adjacent neighbors is a new adventure.
Our neighbors seem nice enough. They're cordial and do the friendly wave when we get the mail or take out the garbage. However from time to time it sounds like elephants have moved in next door. I know our neighbors have three dogs (one of which is a great dane) but no dog, animal or human being could possibly make that much noise.
Our spare bedroom, which has been transformed into the family room/tv room/where my sisters sleep when they stay the night room/man cave/Blackhawks room butts up to what I believe is our neighbors' kitchen or living room. So when we're relaxing watching a movie and I hear thud, boom, bang I know either their dogs have gone rabid or they feel the need to beat the walls with pots and pans.
On top of these neighborly noises our house makes its normal creaks and cracks from time to time. Houses settle, but when you're lying in bed and its dark (regardless if someone is in the room with you) it can make your imagination run wild.
I was looking forward to having a big, strong man to "protect me" from the bumps in the night. Just the other night the weather was particularly bad and I know it was probably the wind, but we heard something outside. I knew our neighbors tend to keep their noise indoors.
I immediately looked at Nick with that, "Aren't you going to check on that?" face. He immediately responded, "Why me?"
I consider myself an independent woman, but believe you me scary noises downstairs late at night...you bet I'm sending my husband to look! If there was some monster lurking in the shadows waiting to get us it seemed my husband was more than willing to sacrifice me to save his own life.
The "Man of the House" is just as big a chicken as I am!
*Note: I did live on a naval base in an apartment up until the age of four, but I don't remember it so I'm not counting it as far as living arrangements go.
Our neighbors seem nice enough. They're cordial and do the friendly wave when we get the mail or take out the garbage. However from time to time it sounds like elephants have moved in next door. I know our neighbors have three dogs (one of which is a great dane) but no dog, animal or human being could possibly make that much noise.
Our spare bedroom, which has been transformed into the family room/tv room/where my sisters sleep when they stay the night room/man cave/Blackhawks room butts up to what I believe is our neighbors' kitchen or living room. So when we're relaxing watching a movie and I hear thud, boom, bang I know either their dogs have gone rabid or they feel the need to beat the walls with pots and pans.
On top of these neighborly noises our house makes its normal creaks and cracks from time to time. Houses settle, but when you're lying in bed and its dark (regardless if someone is in the room with you) it can make your imagination run wild.
I was looking forward to having a big, strong man to "protect me" from the bumps in the night. Just the other night the weather was particularly bad and I know it was probably the wind, but we heard something outside. I knew our neighbors tend to keep their noise indoors.
I immediately looked at Nick with that, "Aren't you going to check on that?" face. He immediately responded, "Why me?"
I consider myself an independent woman, but believe you me scary noises downstairs late at night...you bet I'm sending my husband to look! If there was some monster lurking in the shadows waiting to get us it seemed my husband was more than willing to sacrifice me to save his own life.
The "Man of the House" is just as big a chicken as I am!
*Note: I did live on a naval base in an apartment up until the age of four, but I don't remember it so I'm not counting it as far as living arrangements go.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
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