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
7.18.2011
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
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