The Reinhard Chronicles

The Reinhard Chronicles

After my last post, someone had commented on my Facebook page saying how much they were looking forward to reading more episodes of the Reinhard Chronicles. And since I loved that title so much, I think I’ll turn that into a thing. Being a wife is such a huge part of my life now, why not share the stuff I’m learning? And thus, let The Reinhard Chronicles begin.

The “honeymoon phase” is so commonly used to describe the first year of a married couple’s life. They hold hands in public, give each other sweet kisses, and look cute in general. It’s usually pretty easy to guess which couple is in the honeymoon phase by their general public display of affection. As Cheshire and I stood in the Walmart line the other day, clutching milk and our two new nerf guns (for an optimal game of hide and seek) and grinning like children, something occurred to me. Marriage (I’m told) isn’t always going to be like this. Optimism hanging in the air and the promise of the games to come. Eventually we’ll each fall into our individual roles as boring husband and boring wife, and the games will be tucked away in a closet for safe-keeping while we “adult-up” and take life seriously.

But even as I write this, Chesh is standing in the doorway like a 5 year old, munching on a bag of buffalo jerky. His hair is purple, and he looks happy as a clam. (Cheshire: “Are clams really happy? I always thought they looked upset…”) Will we ever “grow-up”? I sure hope not.

If being an adult means taking life seriously, making your bed, wearing pants, and choosing a nice nature calendar over nerf guns, then count me out. I want my life, especially now that I share that life with Cheshire, to be adventurous, bold, and fun! I don’t want to grow out of my “kid” stage. I want to be as much of me as I can possibly be. And if I want to play Bioshock pants-less, or dye my hair crazy colors, or put ink under my skin, or buy nerf guns just to give myself a reason to hunt down and shoot my new husband, then by golly….I’ll do it. Because I never want to look back and wish I’d been less boring. Less adult-like.

All of this occurred to me, as I clutched those nerf guns to my chest in the middle of the line at Walmart.

Me: “Husband?”
Him: “Wife?”
Me: “Can we never get boring?”
Him: “What do you mean?”
Me: “Can we always do fun things like buy nerf guns so we can shoot each other? Even when we’re really old, like 47? Can we be that couple that still rocks rainbow hair even though our kids roll their eyes at us because they turned out “normal” and think we’re weird?”
Him: “Yes. As long as we get to upgrade to bigger guns every once in a while.”

I think I scored a pretty great, good looking, smart, hot, sexy, cool, awesome husband. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll keep this “honeymoon phase” going for the rest of our lives. Or we’ll die trying. #reinhardordiehard


Life · Personal · Ramblings

Aaaaaaaaand She’s Back!

Who knew that the month of your wedding would be so stressful, eh? I mean, I had figured it would be, but had kind of hoped I would have some time here and there to do some writing. Unfortunately for my blog, the little pieces of time from “here and there” ended up being spent going over arrival times for the wedding party, planning out exactly WHAT I was going to do with my hair, and lying in bed till 3 am worrying about the weather.

The only comfort that remained (as the wedding date loomed, and my blog began to accumulate dust) was the thought of our two week honeymoon after the wedding. A cabin in the woods with plenty of books to be read, stories to be written, and wine to be sipped (in the hot tub). Cheshire and I planned on doing a ton of writing. There were, after all, no distractions in Blue Ridge, and we could get a lot of work done. Thank God I married an introvert who’s idea of fun is to seclude ourselves from people for two weeks solid. (I say this with absolutely NO sarcasm. After having a million people to talk to and hug and interact with at the wedding, two weeks of foresty silence has been the BEST.)

There are, I think, a couple things I have already realized about married life, having been married for a grand total of one week and one day.

  • The bed will not often get made.
  • Cheshire and I will not go to bed at the same time.
  • There’s never enough milk in the fridge.
  • It takes a while for the “wife” title to really kick in.

Allow me to explain.

I, much like many other women of all ages, love Pinterest. I can create my perfect board with my perfect pictures of my perfect house of my perfect life. And Pinterest, my lovelies, can be a beautiful pedestal of happy thoughts that NEVER come true. Take, for instance, my favorite picture in my “Dream Home” board. This photo is of a beautiful bed with cute, comfy looking pillows and a throw that is carefully folded at the foot of the bed. The headboard, the rug, and even the hallway, look beautiful and clean and cozy. It’s lovely. I want to crawl through my laptop into that photo and curl up with a cup of tea on that bed. But. It has occurred to me (7 days into my honeymoon), that having a made bed will not be common. If ever. I have made the bed once. No, actually twice. While I am not opposed to having a made bed, I don’t think I really want to do it every day. I would just rather go drink coffee on the couch and watch Cheshire play (insert game here). Does that make me a bad wife? I sure hope not.

Another connection to the “made-bed-thing” is the “going-to-bed-thing”. Cheshire is a night owl. He doesn’t like to lay around and let his mind wander. Sometimes it goes places he doesn’t like. So instead, he’ll stay up and do something else until he gets tired enough to go to bed. I don’t mind. My dad does the same thing, and it makes perfect sense to me. You go to bed when you’re tired, not when it’s “bed time”. I, on the other hand, can get tired at 10 pm and have no problem announcing that I’m tired, and doing just what I mean to do: SLEEP. I heard once that couples should go to bed together because then they can talk to each other about their day before drifting off to dreamland. To me, that seems strange since the question arises of “what have you been doing all evening?” You should be talking to each other WAY before “bedtime for Bonzo.”

Thirdly, we’ve gone to Walmart three times to get more milk. Three. We’ve only been here 7 days and have scored through a whole gallon already. Not really surprising though, if you consider all the cookies we’ve dunked, and all the hot chocolate and coffee we’ve slurped. As someone who has been dubbed as the “baby cow” for how much milk I consume, it really should be no surprise that the two of us (the baby cow and the cat) could drain through all of that 2%.

And lastly, but not leastly: It really DID take a bit for my new title to sink in. The morning after our wedding, I found myself muttering to myself: “Wife, wife, wife. I’m a wife. This is my husband. I’m his wife. Wifey, wifey, wifey. Weird….”
And it still is weird.
BUT. It’s kind of an awesome feeling. Cheshire isn’t just my boyfriend or fiance anymore. He’s my HUSBAND. And I’m a WIFE. Makes me really happy thinking about it. Every once in a while, I’ll catch Cheshire staring at me, and when I give him a look that says, “What are YOU staring at??” He just smiles and says, “Just looking at my WIFE.”
I think it’s still kicking in for him too.

Well, now that it’s OFFICIALLY time for me to sleep, I’ll leave with this last word: Life is awesome. Freaking awesome. And the things you do and the choices you make, can really make life awesome. But honestly, it’s the people in your life that make life worth living.