persephone33 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
persephone33) wrote2010-11-07 01:02 pm
persephone33) wrote2010-11-07 01:02 pm
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Marriage: It's not for the faint of heart.
Mine's not, literally.
I don't post a whole lot about my marriage, I've realized. First of all, it's sort of a private, personal thing, and second of all, it's a work in progress.
Speaking of works in progress, If ever there was one, my sweet and handsome husband is IT.
When we were first married, and I mean within the first month, when the blush of love was new and fresh, and we moved through life with cartoon birds singing 'round our heads, one of his favorite pastimes was scaring the daylight out of me.
I'm serious.
Within the first month of marriage, I didn't have a job, so I was home in the middle of the day, minding my own business. I was doing the dishes, thinking about how much I loved my husband (or thinking about how Amarillo was drastically different from Dallas, one or the other) and Nolan sneaked in - I still don't know what he was doing home in the middle of the day - quietly stood in the back doorway of the kitchen, raised his arms above his head (making his presence over eight feet tall) and yelled in a deep and resonating voice the scariest and most menacing thing I've ever heard.
"Bwahahahahahaha!"
I freaked out, screamed, was frightened out of my wits, and then true to my twenty-five year-old self, burst into tears. This baffled my new husband beyond belief.
He was chastened, though it did not, as it turns out, stop him from perfecting his craft over the years. For instance, just yesterday morning, he sneaked past the dogs, both kids, and stood behind me while I was working on the computer yesterday morning, finally whispering, "What are you doing?" in my unsuspecting ear. This makes him profoundly proud and more giddy than any forty-one year old has a right to be.
When he attacks, I normally just startle, now. I very rarely cry. Though, I won't lie. Sometimes bladder control does play a part. The difference is, now, even though I still don't love being scared, I admire the commitment Nolan has to his work. He's a big guy; he's 6'3 and 205ish, and that's not a package that's easily sneakable, if you will. I'm more aware of his presence, most of the time (well, fifty percent?) and truly delight in thwarting him when he's trying to sneak up on me. Sometimes he shows mercy, and sometimes (okay, maybe three times) I've scared him. Once involved hiding in his closet for nearly twenty minutes.
If you want to play, you have to pay the price.
Luckily, most of the time the dogs or the kids give him away. Most of the time I laugh, because it really is funny. And most of the time, I'm glad that Nolan brings fun into our marriage, makes things into a game, and even gets the boys in on it.
Bust sometimes I just want to knock the snot out of him for scaring me.
Punk.
I don't post a whole lot about my marriage, I've realized. First of all, it's sort of a private, personal thing, and second of all, it's a work in progress.
Speaking of works in progress, If ever there was one, my sweet and handsome husband is IT.
When we were first married, and I mean within the first month, when the blush of love was new and fresh, and we moved through life with cartoon birds singing 'round our heads, one of his favorite pastimes was scaring the daylight out of me.
I'm serious.
Within the first month of marriage, I didn't have a job, so I was home in the middle of the day, minding my own business. I was doing the dishes, thinking about how much I loved my husband (or thinking about how Amarillo was drastically different from Dallas, one or the other) and Nolan sneaked in - I still don't know what he was doing home in the middle of the day - quietly stood in the back doorway of the kitchen, raised his arms above his head (making his presence over eight feet tall) and yelled in a deep and resonating voice the scariest and most menacing thing I've ever heard.
"Bwahahahahahaha!"
I freaked out, screamed, was frightened out of my wits, and then true to my twenty-five year-old self, burst into tears. This baffled my new husband beyond belief.
He was chastened, though it did not, as it turns out, stop him from perfecting his craft over the years. For instance, just yesterday morning, he sneaked past the dogs, both kids, and stood behind me while I was working on the computer yesterday morning, finally whispering, "What are you doing?" in my unsuspecting ear. This makes him profoundly proud and more giddy than any forty-one year old has a right to be.
When he attacks, I normally just startle, now. I very rarely cry. Though, I won't lie. Sometimes bladder control does play a part. The difference is, now, even though I still don't love being scared, I admire the commitment Nolan has to his work. He's a big guy; he's 6'3 and 205ish, and that's not a package that's easily sneakable, if you will. I'm more aware of his presence, most of the time (well, fifty percent?) and truly delight in thwarting him when he's trying to sneak up on me. Sometimes he shows mercy, and sometimes (okay, maybe three times) I've scared him. Once involved hiding in his closet for nearly twenty minutes.
If you want to play, you have to pay the price.
Luckily, most of the time the dogs or the kids give him away. Most of the time I laugh, because it really is funny. And most of the time, I'm glad that Nolan brings fun into our marriage, makes things into a game, and even gets the boys in on it.
Bust sometimes I just want to knock the snot out of him for scaring me.
Punk.