I don't really know where the hell October peaced out to so quickly, but now we are into November and quickly nearing the holiday season. Being that this is the first holiday season Mark and I will spend together as a married couple you would think that I would be all aglow with that newlywed aura, eager to send people Christmas cards with vomit-inducingly cute pictures from our honeymoon and plotting how I can get us into matching Santa hats or Christmas sweaters at every possible opportunity.
Yes, I am thrilled that we are about to spend the holidays as husband and wife for the first time. But marriage and compromise happen to be besties, and that is especially pertinent for us at the holidays. This particular compromise involves me deviating from the holiday tradition I have had with my family every year of my life and spending Christmas with Mark's family in Southbend, Indiana.
Don't get me wrong- after meeting many of Mark's family members for the first time at the wedding I am looking forward to spending some quality time together without the smile continually plastered on my face and the bulk of our conversation being me thanking them for coming to the wedding all the while thinking, "Oh my gosh, what did they say their names were??"
I have just had a routine for the last 21 years that has been both comically and comfortingly consistent. More often than not, it is the only time I get to see my extended family during the year and the predictability of the week-long trip to Kentucky (mom's family) and West Virginia (dad's family) comes all the way down to knowing what stories are going to be told about us when we were little. (A few highlights being the time I dropped my stuffed bear in the toilet and when my Grandma spent hours putting my hair into hot rollers only for me to hate it when I came out looking like a cross between Shirley Temple and a poodle who stuck its paw in an electric socket. She, however, thought it was precious and doesn't hesitate to remind me that it is her favorite hairstyle I have ever had. I was also five. She needs to let it go.)
Mark came along for the ride last year, and the fact that he survived and still wanted to marry me is a testament to his character (or a lapse in his sanity) and the reason why it is my turn to be the outsider on a new family Christmas. So my response has been to throw myself into the new set of plans headfirst and try not to think about how sad I will be when I stop to really think about it. But that is just how being married goes. It ain't no Burger King and you can't always have it your way.
Speaking of compromise, shortly after I wrote my previous post about my downstairs neighbors I ran into the guy as I was leaving for work in the morning. He was shirtless (and no Taylor Lautner, mind you) and rummaging through the girl's car. I pictured several scenarios, all involving me being really sassy and putting him in his place and one even involving me going all hot warrior chick on him and kicking his butt, before finally saying in a resigned and polite voice, "Excuse me. I have been hoping to catch you- I was wondering if you might be able to straighten your cars in the parking spaces. It's been raining nonstop and the last few times I have come back I haven't been able to get a close parking spot."
He looked at me for a second before shrugging and saying, "Sure."
And sure enough, when I got home both of their cars were neatly aligned in parking spaces and have been ever since. True, it may have had something to do with the fact that I had also gotten Mark to go to the landlord that morning to let him know about this problem and later finding that everyone in the building had received a note saying to be courteous and not take up two parking spots. But as far as I know, my last resort of patience and communication solved the problem. Who would have thought that kind of junk actually works?
No comments:
Post a Comment