Becoming a Mrs. (Life-Changing, Yet Not Really)

Jeremy Cavness Photography

This time last year, I was adjusting to the concept of being an engaged lady. I had a shiny, emerald cut stunner on my left hand and a copy of Martha Stewart Weddings in the backseat of my car. I was over the moon to start our married life together...and honest-to-God, there still isn't a day that goes by where I don't get goosebumps thinking about the future with Stephen.

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I wondered several times about the degree to which being married would change me, if at all.


Would I become a different person? I didn't think so.

Would I suddenly have an urge to decorate for every major holiday? Yes. But then again, I did before.

Would I start spending my weekends in sweats and t-shirts, sans make-up? No. But then again, I didn't before.

Would I cook dinner for us vs. going through Chick-Fil-A after work in the evening? I hoped. For our waistlines and for my street cred as a wife.

Would I change my name on Facebook? Duh. I couldn't wait!

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Truth is, being married doesn't feel a whole lot different than being engaged.

We spent loads of time together before September 17th, (okay, we practically lived together). We ate most dinners together. We visited each other's families on the weekends together. We shopped for the boat (our first major purchase) together.

I've heard a lot of women say they felt like they cashed in some form of their identity when they tied the knot. Honestly, I don't think it has to be that way. I still blog, (a hobby which my husband proudly supports), I still wear make-up on days when we're just bumming around the house, I still hang out with my momma (something I was afraid might decrease significantly when I got married.)

We still go on dates, we still text and email throughout the day, we still work out together.

If anything has changed since we got married, it has only been for the better. My favorite time of the day is when Stephen gets home (he gets off work a bit later than I do and I office out of our home) and we spend an hour just hanging out and having a glass of sweet tea in the kitchen, chatting about our day.

We cook together, too. This I love. It is almost better than shopping for Manolos. Maybe better.

 He chops the garlic; I cube the chicken. The planets align.

The less glamorous things in life are still eons better with your spouse. Paying bills, (something I did before as a single lady) is a bit more fun when you can spontaneously burst into a Journey songs with each other to break up the monotony of stamping envelopes and writing checks.

So what has changed? Well, for starters, I have a new last name. I have to admit, I'd been "Double L" for so long that trading in my "L" initial was a little sad. But then again, my husband carries an Italian last name and now I can pretend I'm a mob wife, a definite plus in my book.

I always have a fridge of ingredients from which we can prepare actual meals. During the stag days, my food inventory usually amounted to half a stick of butter, an out-of-date carton of yogurt and bottled water. Now that I cook, we take trips to the grocery store to buy ingredients for a week's worth of meals at a time. (Did you know that's possible?!)

I get excited over things like kitchen towels, Tupperware and new laundry detergent with added Stain Boosters (!!).

We have a medicine cabinet. With medicines for darn near everything. We rarely get sick, but I attribute this to the nasty case of nesting that came with moving into a new home. It seemed appropriate to buy bookoos of Advil and Prilosec. Don't ask me why. (But hey, if you happen to be over at our house for dinner and are in desperate need of Claritin with a side of Robitussin, we've got ya covered.)

We enjoy watching Dateline: Murder Without a Cause and load the coffeemaker before we go to bed.

(As I'm typing this, I'm realizing how geriatric and boring we sound. You're probably wondering when we plan to get hip replacements and dentures.)

Sure, there are times we want to strangle each other have pleasant disagreements.

But oh how I love that man. The way he turns up the heat in the house when we wake up in the morning, just so I won't have to shiver in the bathroom. Or the way he is able to make a really bad situation a not so bad situation by impersonating a cast member from Jersey Shore and subsequently causing me to laugh so hard I can't breathe.

Last week, I was waxing and waning about how my hair would look like a poorly constructed bird's nest throughout the entire month of March. (Due to the upcoming surgery, I won't be able to raise my arms over my head for a few weeks. I know, it's splendid.)

Without missing a beat, he goes, "I can wash it for you. And dry it. And I've watched you poof it. I can definitely do that, too. Don't worry. We'll get your hair fixed."

Then, thinking about what he may have just gotten himself into...

"Or I'll drive you over to that nice salon every day if we have to."

And then I realized. That's how my life has changed. I have an "other half". When one of us goes down, the other one steps in to save the day.

Or poof our hair.

Be blessed, lovelies-