Everyday is Valentine's Day

Today is Valentine’s Day! And it’s a big one, not only because it’s our first as a married couple, but in the three years Mark and I have been together, it’s our first Valentine’s Day actually together in, not only the same country, but ever!

Due to Mark’s job, he’s usually is in the Caribbean during the winter months, so we just forego the holiday all together. Instead, I usually make plans with my single gals and we nosh on bottomless-baskets of tortilla chips, sip margaritas and entertain ourselves with the Spanish-only speaking servers.

So here it is. The very first Valentine’s Day I get to celebrate with a significant other … and we have no plans.

As a little girl, I LOVED LOVED LOVED Valentine’s Day (probably an early sign of my sugar addiction). I loved the red and pink (obviously). I loved the candy and cookies. I loved searching for the perfect Valentines to give to classmates. I loved the class projects leading up to the big day. I LOVED Valentine’s Day!

As time past, and with no boyfriends, I became a bit jaded. Although at my root, I am not a flashy person, and most likely would be a majorly embarrassed, I secretly wished I had someone who would send flowers to my high school on that special day.

In college and the years following, I started to enjoy Valentine’s Day again. Rather than focusing on the fact there was a lack of quality men in my life, I was grateful I had amazing girlfriends to spend it with. And it’s a save bet we had WAY more fun than we would have had with boyfriends.

And now, I have an amazing man who gives me anything I could want or imagine just because. But more important than any gift, is that we actually, truly enjoy each other.

When Mark and I first started dating, we were apart more often than together. We never fought or got upset with each other because we didn't want to ruin our real-time together. Later in our relationship, we had to learn how to fight appropriately. But we took something very important from those first months … we still believe our time together is precious.

It’s corny, but Mark and I really get to celebrate Valentine’s Day all year long. Some days are a little less pink and rosy than others, and flowers and dinners out are always a nice, butI believe our time together is more appreciated than most. And I believe that’s what Valentine’s Day is really about – slowing down from our busy lives and appreciate those in it.

They're Coming to America ...

(You have the Neil Diamond song in your head, don't you?)

I haven’t written in a while, and although I had another post started, something more interesting came up.

Due to recent events, that hit a little to close to home, Mark and I have decided to begin the process of applying for his green card.

We talked about applying right after we got married. As you know, with my schooling and Mark’s line of work we barely squeezed in a honeymoon before Mark had the boss on board in the Bahamas for a few weeks. (If you didn’t know, travel is suggestively forbidden while a green card application is under process.)

Long story short, Mark and I met with an immigration lawyer this week.

I have no doubt in my mind Mark and I will pass. However, to have to allow the fate of your marriage to be decided by a government agency, someone who, no matter how much information or how many wedding photos are in a binder, doesn't really know us.

Until Tuesday, I didn’t know Mark’s favorite color, and until Tuesday he didn’t know mine. I did know how Mark loves waking up early, having the first cup of coffee, going to the pilot house to check emails and just enjoy the quiet – on the boat and on the sea. Mark knows that my dog is my most prized possession. He knows my weaknesses are sugar, diet soda, reality TV and Dachshunds. We both have fat days, we could spend all afternoon at the dog beach, our families are very important to us and we struggle daily with submitting to God.

As the process continues, I will chronicle what I can. It’s a weird feeling to think we have to defend our marriage.

I know the immigration agency is doing their job. And I am grateful, since I wouldn't want just anyone in this country, and I sure as hell don’t want the Sacrament of Marriage to become causality to the immigration process.

I know the immigration agents have a tough job and I don’t envy them. To help them out (hopefully!), Mark and I have started on the mound of paperwork (and the remembering!) as well as collecting every scrap of paper, every card and every piece of evidence we have that not only do we have a marriage, it’s a real marriage.

After all, happy, healthy relationships aren't about favorite colors or what country we are from. It’s about knowing that obstacles are just hiccups in the long run … and that’s exactly what we are in it for.

The Couch

Wow! Happy 2011! I thought I would have the chance to write before the holidays, and again at least before the new year. This blog had been in the works for a while, but perhaps this post wasn’t ready until a few days ago.

Mark and I traveled to my parents for the holidays. It was the first time I was home since the wedding. Of course, the number one question everyone asked was, “How’s married life?”

With only three month under our belt, I think Mark and I believed we would fall into our new roles with ease. Me, wife, you husband. We would take moonlit walks, enjoy Sunday morning coffee and have friends over for Uno tournaments.

Well, our moonlit walks involve taking the dogs out, Sundays usually involve me studying for the upcoming week and being in a new city, we don’t know enough people to even have an Uno tournament.

But most troubling was the amount of disagreements Mark and I were having. If you know us, you wouldn't believe it. We are usually happy, goofy people. We enjoy playing with our dogs, paddle boarding, Chinese take-out and vegging on the couch watching America’s Funniest Videos.

As a dating couple, Mark and I rarely fought. We aren’t use to, nor are we happy with, arguing.

When Mark and I went through Pre-Cana (the Catholic version of the pre-martial preparation) we had a speaker that talked about merging of two families. Do you open gifts on Christmas eve or day? What foods do you have at Thanksgiving? What other traditions do did you grow up with and how will they fit in to your married life?

Those are more superficial discussions. What about bigger issues? Mark and I are both first-borns, who are used to being in charge and having our way. We are both super independent. We’ve both lived alone. We are use to doing our own thing. We have different ways of communication. Where Mark tends to an exceptional speaker and the more verbal one, as a writer, I like to think about and edit my words. How do you combine two very similar, yet different personalities?

It wasn’t until I had coffee last week with a friend that the truth came out. She asked me how marriage was. Then she said something that struck a cord, “We [her and her husband] fought all the time our first year.”

Her relationship mirrored mine. And she had dealt with similar stresses in the few years as well; a move, school, marriage.

As she continued on, she mentioned that her and her husband started couples counseling within the first year and still go once a month for maintenance. She said she was embarrassed about it at first.

It struck a cord with me. A couple months ago, Mark and I had a argument where Mark offered the thought of couples therapy. It only made me angry. Maybe it was the super-caffeinated Americano, but hearing it in Starbucks sounded different.

Why not counseling in the early stages of marriage? Counseling or therapy has become such a last ditch effort for most couples; why not start marriage with counseling? By the time most couples sit on the couch, issues are deep. Roles are established.

What if counseling was used proactively?

I think what my friend and her husband are doing is extremely wise and could be revolutionary.

My friend and her husband, like most couples who marry under God, went through pre-martial preparations (which can range from continuous counseling with a pastor until the wedding day to just a meeting or two with a priest). She mentioned that she wished the pastor had followed up a few weeks after the wedding, just to see how things were going.

Marriage is such a checklist now (and a multi-million dollar industry), that you can literally feel like a number while sitting in from of a pastor or priest. Those couples that actually marry for a lifetime and not for the white dress, the house and soon-to-follow baby, can get lost. Pre-martial preparation is about getting to the altar, not about what happens after the "I dos" are exchanged.

The issues Mark and I have are the usual growing pains that most couples face.

Mark and I drove back from Ohio last weekend. Mark had driven nine straight hours, with two more to go. So we started talking. We started asking questions, bringing up issues that were bothering us and overall just talking, calmly

We haven’t made a decision about counseling, though it would be nice to have a third party assure me that storing apples in the fridge is the right place to store an apple. But we also aren’t against it, especially as a maintenance initiative. People always say marriage is work. Romance and dinners out can only get you so far.

We decided to read the Love Dare to try and talk about potential issues before they real issues. And finally we decided to make an effort to go to church (We use to go back in Ohio, but have been a bit lost at finding a church that made us feel as comfortable, yet as spiritually-challenged as the one we left).

And wouldn’t you know it. God has a plan. One of the verses mentioned during service on Sunday was Proverbs 12:1, “He who loves instruction loves knowledge; but he who hates correction is stupid.”

Our thoughts about post-martial counseling aren’t out of fear or a last-ditch effort. It’s to seek to understand each other and to correct faults or shortcomings we may have so we can not only cultivate our relationship but have the best marriage possible. To not want to challenge yourself to be better and to grow stronger with your spouse … well that is just plain stupid.

The Heavy

This weekend south Florida felt like fall! And thank goodness, because after attempting to squeeze into my skinny jeans for date night on Friday, and seriously failing to do so, my sweatpants and I became best friends without too much discomfort (at least due to the weather).

It’s official. I have fallen prey to the relationship weight gain. Not only did I add a husband to my life, I added a pants size. And while to most people that isn’t a lot, I am only 5’2” so a few pounds really screws up my wardrobe. But it’s not just my wardrobe. I stopped wearing my heels, I’ve slack on make up, my nails have been chipped for the past week and we have not gone out past dinner since …. well I can’t even remember.

I’m blaming Mark. In the three days leading up to the wedding, I slept a total of 6 hours, took one shower and had put make up on zero times. My sweet soon-to-be-husband came in from running errands, hugged me, kissed me and then stepped back to look at me.

“I really like this look,” he said in all seriousness.

“The dirty-hobo-bride look?” I joked.

“Yeah. Well I mean the no make up and sweats. It’s cute.”

When Mark and I began dating, we lived like rockstars. It was expensive, but we flew around the world to see each other, dressed up and when out to eat and party every night. I worked my ass out at the gym and suffered through meals of green beans and brown rice, so I could party it up on the weekends. I would go shopping for cute dresses and new shoes. I can’t count the number of times I would drive to the airport, hands out the window, in order to dry my nails before I had to hit up the security checkpoint.

But living in a tropical climate, where the heat is obnoxious and rain is unpredictable and tsunami-like, and not having anywhere to go on a regular basis, I have relaxed a bit. Sandals have become my staple footwear; I can’t even remember the last pair of new shoes I bought. Shopping is the enemy, especially since our gym has been under renovation for the past two weeks. And working out to a Jillian Michaels video has become a chore, since I now have two dogs sitting standby, just waiting to lick the salty-sweat off my face right about the time as I am trying to come up from a push up.

I know Mark is feeling the weight as well. We both are uncomfortable. We both like to watch TV on a Friday nights, because we both are usually asleep before ten o’clock. We both turned 85-years-old in just a few short months. (Scratch that, my 92-year-old grandmother has more energy that us).

By no means do I want to be high-maintenance. As much fun as a fancy dinner and cocktails are, I really do love sitting on the couch watching a movie with Mark. And because up until a few months ago our relationship has really been anything but routine, it is nice to be a little mundane when Mark finally comes back home.

So, this weekend, after my second peppermint hot chocolate from Starbucks, I declared war. The gym re-opened, so I hit up the Elliptical (promptly followed by a sushi dinner and an ice cream sandwich … and a Reese’s cup … okay, two. But they are the really small bite-sized ones.). … Hey, it’s a start.

After the White Dress, Do Things Change?

Whew!

Yesterday was our one-month anniversary. I thought I’d get a post in before the wedding, and at least right after the wedding, but c’est la vie.

Not a lot has happened since married life began. We did get a puppy … while on our “mini-moon.” She is a 2-month-old Border Collie mix, named Morgan. She’s a handful, but oh-so-cute. Martini, my Chihuahua-mix has gotten somewhat use to the idea that Morgan is here to stay, and I even caught them playing a few times.

So, how did Mark and I celebrate being not-so-newlywedded? I believe Mark scoured Charleston, SC for Chinese takeout for his boss. I celebrated by cleaning up after a certain puppy and making my muscle, nerve, action chart for my musculoskeletal anatomy class. See, just two weeks after we were wed, Mark had to go back to work and has been gone for two-and-a-half weeks. That means we have spent more time apart as newlyweds than we have together. Which pretty much 1. defines our relationship and that should mean that 2. I didn’t expect much to change once we got married.

… But maybe I did.

Mark and I had a talk on our drive to Naples for our mini-moon. He had the rest of the month off, so while I was running around trying to catch up with school and clinic, he spent all day alone in our shoebox of an apartment. Those four walls are enough to drive anyone crazy (I know!), and they ended up frustrating Mark a bit. He expected something different than waiting for me to come home from school everyday. I laughed and asked what he expected to change. He said he wasn’t sure, but he just expected something different. I told him a majority of my married friends said really not much changed after the tux was returned and the white dress preserved.

But now I have the same feeling as Mark. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Now it’s my turn to sit at home alone. Mark comes home on Thursday, and while I can’t wait to see him, it’s hard knowing his time here is short-spent. And it’s even harder to start a life with constant interruptions.

I am not bitter or upset about Mark being away or his job. It has to happen. I’m in school for another two years. Mark makes good money and he likes his job … at least most of the time. And we’ve spent a majority of our relationship apart. But something in me is ready to move on to the next step … and no, not babies. (I think a 2-month-old puppy is great birth control.)

No, I want to make friends, buy a couch, graduate from pouring a bowl of Lucky Charms for dinner to actually cooking for someone. And while Morgan and Martini would love my cooking, they aren’t great conversationalist. I guess I just didn’t expect to be single and alone after getting married.

I’ve heard that brides often go through a bit of a depression after the wedding is over. For the most part, I believe it’s a loss of such a major part of someone’s day-to-day life over the past year. But I think for me it is the realization that, after almost a year of being here, I don’t have a life in Florida. My family and my friends are up north. And the one person who I care about more than anything isn’t here consistently. When he does return, it’s hurry up and hang out. There’s little appreciation for just being together because there is little time.

Where are future leads us is obviously up to God, and I just pray that Mark and I finally end up someplace together.

The Cost & The Important Things

Two weeks. That’s it. Only 13 days until I receive my MRS. It’s so strange that it’s literally around the corner, and it hasn’t hit me just yet. Granted I have to get through a week of school, clinic, a Junior League meeting, a quiz and a plane ride home before I can really think about the walking down the aisle.

Not to mention a family emergency this past week caused me to consider postponing the already too-long engagement. It also caused me to consider a lot of other things: the importance of family and God and the lack of importance of centerpieces and chair covers (though, if budget allows, I’d still really love chair covers). In a blink of an eye, the dress dislike and my fear of crappy centerpieces disappeared. God, love, and the strength of family took their places.

And I have to say, that I have the best fiancé in the entire world. Though a few states away, he sat silently through my crazy crying spells and made sure to end every conversation on a positive note. He never questioned what was happening, but instead gave me support and encouragement.

Through this I have discovered what is really important in this wedding, and much to my mom’s disagreement, it’s not the cake. It’s the relationships that are being strengthened (with my parents, with my brothers and with Mark) and those being formed (between our parents, between our brothers, with our in-laws).

Okay, well with all the sentimental and learning experiences out of the way, I will get right down to my chief complaint: the freaking cost of “wedding.” I wasn’t ignorant enough to believe I could actually stay on budget. However, I do not believe in paying for $75 for three orchids on a cake. Yes. $75. I can pick up two orchid plants for $20 on any corner of US 1 in Miami. And wedding cake. It’s flour, butter, water and some flavoring. Hopefully it’s infused with gold for the amount we are paying for it. We don’t have an elaborate design either (though there will be edible glitter involved).

It’s like as soon as you add the word “wedding” or “bridal” to anything, the cost triples. I realized I am in the wrong line of work. However, I thought with the whole green, eco-, natural, holistic way of thinking, I might be able to find my niche in the wedding industry. Pre-Wedding Acupuncture: Only $300 a needle. J

Re-Dressing

Whew! It’s been a while, but after the adventures in stationary I really haven’t wanted to do anything wedding-realted. Plus, Mark came in town for a week and a half and spending time with him, as well as studying for my three finals and packing for month-long trip back to Ohio, took priority over anything wedding related.

I finally made it back to Ohio today, but it wasn’t with out one more bridal freak-out: The dress.

Here’s the thing: I bought the dress in February 2009; more than a year and a half before the wedding.

The day we (my mom and I) bought the dress I had received an email that a little couture dress shop down the street from my parent’s house was having a 50% off off-the-rack sale.

In the twenty-some-odd years we’d lived down the street from it, we’d never been in the store. More than wanting to dress shop, we were curious. And knowing one, it’s a bit strange walking into a bridal shop unless you are getting married and two, I wouldn’t be able to afford the dresses unless they were a hugely discounted, my mom and I decided to brave the cold, wet February Sunday “just to see.”

At this point, I had already pre-purchased one dress, but looking at photos of me in it, the dress looked more lounge singer than virginal bride. I quickly canceled the order and asked the store I had purchased it from if they couldn’t have a lace gown shipped in from the trunk show where I had originally tried it on. They agreed, but it would be another month or so. With my wedding more a year and a half away I thought shopping around couldn’t hurt.

We walked into the hidden dress shop. Being in a pre-Civil War house it was tiny and dark and stuffed to the walls with white, fluffy tulle and silky satin. I pulled a few dresses, tried them on and wasn’t really impressed. I wasn’t in a buying mood either.

It was near closing time and the sales lady pulled a beautiful, sparkly dress. It was a little too much sparkle for me, but my mom and the sales lady begged me to try it on. I obliged, walked out, stepped on the platform and looked in the mirror. The way the jeweled design was set out, the sparkles met at my belly button, converging at one giant jewel. I rubbed it and made a joke about my Troll tummy, only to look up and see my mom crying.

“Really mom?” I sighed. Of the 30 plus dresses I had pulled and/or tried on, I barely got so much as a smile, let alone tears.

“T, this is it!”

“No. … I don’t think it is,” I said, studying the dress in the mirror. Then looking at my mom again. “Really?”

My mom’s crying was only encouraged by the Indian-accented sales lady. “Yes, yes! You buy! This is on magazines!”

I frowned. I’ve never saw this dress in any magazines. As a journalist, I always thought of myself as a super-researcher. Anything I buy, I not only read reviews from multiple sources, I study them and I make sure others have used it. I never saw this dress or this designer ever mentioned. And trust me, I am a bridal blog fanatic.

To skip ahead, my mom bought the dress much to my protest (well, as much protest as I could, well, protest without throwing a tantrum … looking back I probably should have stomped my feet. It might have saved me from this blog post). When we drove the short mile and a half home, I promptly called my fiancé and told him I found a dress. Then I cried. I hated it. It was terrible experience. I was on the platform telling my mom and the sales lady I didn’t like it, but nobody listened. It was as if I was in a dream; literally an outer-body experience.

From then on, when my mom would bring up the dress, I wouldn’t talk about it.

“Tara, tell so-and-so about the dress!” my mom would say.

“Why don’t you tell them since you picked it out?” I would respond, usually followed by silently sulking out of the room.

I figured I would like it some day. It is a beautiful dress. But as the rest of my life and other wedding plans unfolded around me, I forgot about the dress (or I tried to black out the experience).

I did eventually have to get fitted, which happened in April. But a few weeks ago I asked my mom to send me photos she took during the fitting. When I opened the email, I burst out crying. I looked terrible! It just wasn’t me. I couldn’t look more uncomfortable. It was as if someone forced me it in. At the very least, it didn’t look like my wedding dress.

In the last year and a half, a lot has happened in my life. I quit a job where I was content being relatively unhappy, I took a Caribbean adventure working on a yacht, I moved to Florida all by myself and started on a new (and very intense) career path. Slowly I am growing up and coming into my own. I am learning what I want and learning to speak up. Being apart from my family (and mainly my mom) has given me a freedom to just be me. And me isn’t a Troll belly or super sparkle.

I feel stupid. It is just fabric. But I also know that it’s the outfit I will wearing when I become Mark’s wife. When I become bound to him for the rest of our lives in front of hundreds of our friends and family. When I start the next chapter in my life. Marriage is a rite of passage. And in most cultures rites of passage require much preparation, a ceremony and, usually, ceremonial clothes. So, yes, I feel as if I need to give this wedding dress another shot.

Thankfully, God is looking out for me. The day after I gathered the courage to tell my mom I was thinking of getting another dress, I received an email about a 75% off sale at a bridal store in town. I quickly RSVPed to the event.

There is also some pretty cool Web sites, like preownedweddingdresses.com, where, I learned I’m not the only person who has had a change of heart. (Why don’t other brides talk about this?!)

I don’t know if I will find another dress. It would be easier to keep the one hanging in the tailor’s basement and just go with it. After all it is just a dress, and this is just one day. But perhaps this dress represents more than just September 18, 2010. Perhaps it represents taking a stand, growing up, admitting to mistakes, swallowing pride, and ultimately learning that sometimes you just have to do what is right for you.