Married Life

All posts in the Married Life category

Hello, 911? I’m a mess.

Published October 28, 2017 by Malia

This week was a big pile of Bantha poodoo. Not only did I end up in the e.r. for chest pains on Wednesday night (that’s a whole separate post that will be coming soon), but then on Friday morning I had one of the scariest experiences of my life.

I awoke at 5:30 a.m. because Gracie was standing on the bed, staring at the door, and barking. This was a little alarming to wake up to, but the truly scary part wad that I could see light from out in the house streaming under my doorway…and I knew I had turned all the lights off before I went to bed.

Oh, and I was home alone because the boy’s new job requires some overnights out of town.

I grabbed Gracie, my phone, and a knife and locked us all up in the master bathroom. Since I knew the bedroom door was locked, I figured I’d at least bought myself some time.

Now, my first thought was that maybe the boy had gotten home early. So, I tried calling him. And I kept trying to call him. I sent a text. I got no responses.

I could hear faint noises from out in the house, but was unsure if I was hearing the cats, or if someone was in the house.

Finally, I dialed 911 and told the dispatcher that I thoughtthere was an intruder. She stayed on the phone with me while I waited for the cops to arrive. It only took a few minutes, but those minutes felt like hours. Eventually, I heard what sounded like faint knocking. I asked the dispatcher if it was the cops, and she confirmed it was and said it was okay to go answer the door.

I crept out from the bathroom, convinced that an attacker was lurking, waiting to grab me. When I opened the bedroom door, my heart nearly stopped because all the lights in the house were now off. I knew that at least one light had been on, which confirmed my fear that there was an intruder.

I made my way down the hallway, freaking out on the phone to the dispatcher, because I was convinced something terrible was about to happen. I must have looked super intimidating in my pink, fluffy bathrobe, phone in one hand, knife in the other. And by intimidating, I mean hilarious.

And then, I entered the living room…

“Hey, babe.” The sleepy voice of my husband greeted me from the couch.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that relieved, pissed, and embarrassed all at once. I may have muttered something along the lines of, “I love you, but I’m gonna kill you!”

I switched on a light, and wrapped in my fluffy pink bathrobe I went to the door and proceeded to explain to a very kind/slightly amused police officer that while someone was actually in the house, it was my husband. The officer assured me that they were just glad everything was okay, and I did the right thing by calling since I hadn’t known for sure.

They left. I went in and kissed the boy and he told me his phone had been set to “do not disturb” and he’d been trying to let me get sleep since the week had been a sleepless one for me. Part of me melted because he’s so thoughtful and sweet. The non-melted part requested that in the future he either text me he’s headed home early, or turn off “do not disturb.”

And that, kids, is the story of how I called the cops on my husband.


This too shall pass…it may pass like a kidney stone…but it will pass

Published April 23, 2017 by Malia

“Tragedy is when I cut my finger.  Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.”  Mel Brooks

“I don’t think you can take anymore bad news.” the boy informed me when he got home on Thursday night.

“You’re probably right, but you can’t say something like that and not tell me what happened.”

Turned out that he’d blown a tire that afternoon.  As I sat there, taking in the latest bit of bad news in our life, there was this little voice in the back of my head that muttered something about, “One day you’ll look back on this and laugh.”  However, laughter wasn’t exactly forthcoming in that moment.  Instead, I sat there doing math and trying not to cry.

We’d barely been scraping by this month, but I knew that with the paychecks being deposited on Friday, we’d finally be able to pay the mortgage, and have just a little left over to finally be ahead instead of facing the red.  Now, that little was going to cover replacing tires.

Now, before I continue, I feel I should make an interjection here.  I realize that over that over the last several months, the few times I have blogged, it’s been stressed, depressed writing.  I’ve just been stuck.  Completely overwhelmed and terrified of what bad news each day is going to bring.  The thing is, I know that the more I focus on feeling crapped on, the more crapped on I’m going to feel.  So, I’m making a point to try to not focus on the bad, and I’m going to try to find the good and the funny/absurd.

And back to the story…

Thankfully, we did have just enough to cover the mortgage and the tires.  However, I am trying very hard not to freak out right now, because I have zero idea of how we’re going to pay our electric bill that’s also due this week.  I dream of a day when we can pay all of our bills on time every month.  I know that we’re nearing that day, because we’ve already made great progress since the end of last year when we couldn’t pay anything.  So, that’s a happy thought.

And despite the stress, and the fear, we’re okay.  The boy and I are together, holding on tight to each other and to Jesus.

And if we do end up living down by the river, at least we’ve got a van.

I’m pretty sure there’s a centipede standing over us, dropping shoes.

Published April 7, 2017 by Malia

I had this whole rant written, that I’m pretty sure was mostly influenced by fever and cough meds.  I deleted the rant, and am going to stick to the bare bones as best I can.

The Boy was in a car accident yesterday morning.  Fortunately, no one was hurt.  However the car’s radiator is cracked.  It’s currently in the shop, and we’re waiting to hear what the estimate is and what insurance is going to cover.
I’m scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed.  Since we got married two years ago it’s felt like we’ve become life’s punching bag.  I know we have a lot to be thankful for, that we’re far better off than quite a few people.  I’m just tired of the constant barrage of “other shoes” that keep dropping.  I’ve shared a little of our struggles, but kept many parts of the last two years very private, because frankly it’s not something I’ve been prepared to share. I still need more distance from the events to be able to write about them with a clear head.  Hindsight and time are valuable things when it comes to learning lessons.  

 I’m not sure how to end this, so I ask for your prayers and good thoughts.  And if you’re feeling really beat up by life, please know you’re not alone.   

The Return of the Lab Hobbit

Published April 2, 2017 by Malia

I went back to work in February.  I’m not sure I was really ready to go back to work, but our bank account was having a really negative attitude, so it seemed like the best option.  Funny thing, the people that send us bills really like when we pay those bills…

I’m back in a lab, a place I was afraid I’d never get to go back to.  Not only that, but I’m in a hospital lab.  I’ve spent years wishing I could be in a hospital lab, and now I am.  I’m feeling quite a bit happier than I have in a long while.  I actually want to go to work, which is always a positive.  As I’m starting my third month there, I find I’m still feeling a little overwhelmed by everything, but my coworkers are the best, and they’re always available to help me through the little hiccups and the big nightmares.

The boy and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary in March.  And by “celebrated,” I mean he woke up two minutes before I left for work, and that was the only time we saw each other that day (he didn’t get home from work until the wee hours of the morning the next day).  I’m hoping that by next year we’ll actually get to celebrate both Valentine’s Day and our anniversary (this year’s Valentine’s Day disaster is worthy of it’s own post).  While celebrating may not have happened, I can honestly say that I am so incredibly blessed to have the boy by my side.  We’re not perfect spouses, we both screw up on a regular basis (me, far more than him) but we do the best we can.  The first two years of marriage have been really difficult.  I’ve cried more in the last year, than I have in my entire life.  It’s been exhausting, overwhelming, and even scary.  However, I think it’s actually drawn us closer together, having to go through this.  I know it’s brought me closer to God (that’s another post, as well).

And now, I’m going to sign off for the night, because tomorrow is going to be here very soon and I can’t afford to sleep through my alarm again (that’s definitely another post.  I’m sensing a theme…).

Tiny Bathroom Hack

Published January 2, 2017 by Malia

This is the vanity in our master bathroom:

This is how our vanity usually looks.  The problem is, our master bathroom is less suite and more dorm.  Translation: it’s small.  Almost claustrophobic.  

When the boy was a bachelor, the bathroom was fine.  He didn’t need much counter space; just enough to put soap and a cup.  Then he married me and discovered that unlike himself, I needed loads of counter space.  I needed everything, readily accessible, all the time.  Mostly, he’s been a good sport about it, but as we near the two year mark I can tell that the disaster that the counter has become is definitely an annoyance.  Which led to me trying to come up with a solution.

Ta-Da:

A shoe rack was the answer.  It works so perfect and I can’t wait for the boy to get home from work so he can see the improvement to our counter!

Life’s not perfect, but I’m so thankful for the ability to fix some of those imperfections. 

How do two people use this many dishes?

Published November 14, 2016 by Malia

I officially became a homemaker at the end of January.  Since January, I’ve discovered that I officially suck at being a homemaker.

Our house is a disaster.  When I moved in, the boy already had the house filled with his things, and I liked his things.  Big problem, though, I had boxes and boxes of my own things, and I happen to like my things too.  Right now, 75% of my things are still in boxes in the room that we don’t talk about.

Oh, the room.  Picture Monica’s secret closet, and just imagine it as a whole room.  Okay, it’s not that bad.  It’s not packed full to the ceiling.  There are just stacks of boxes everywhere.  We don’t talk about the room, because every time I go in there to try find something, I end up wanting to cry and then spend hours beating myself up because I have ZERO clue how to organize this house.

Both my mom and my mom-in-law have offered, many times, to come and help me make sense of the nightmare.  And I know that I should accept their help.  I need their help, but I’ve yet to take them up on it because I’m embarrassed.  It’s humiliating to be almost 32 years old, and be incapable of making your house look like grown-ups live there.

I’ve tried.  I honestly have.  It always starts out well.  I do the dishes.  And by that, I mean, I empty the dishwasher of the dishes that have been sitting in it for two or more weeks, and then fill it up from the pile of dishes that has been growing in the sink for weeks.  Then, once the dishwasher is filled and running, if I’m feeling really gung-ho, I’ll wash a bunch of dishes by hand.  Once the sink is empty I’ll turn my attention to the ever-inflating mountain of laundry, and I might even get the bathroom cleaned.

So, it probably sounds like I’ve pretty much got everything under control, and there should be no problem.  My house should be spotless at this point, right?

Wrong.

See, I’ll have a super productive day, and then the boy comes home from work, and I’ll make food.  Making food leads to the sink being filled with a bunch of dirty dishes.  When I look at that pile of dirty dishes, I just absolutely shut down.  I’ll have been so proud of myself for getting things done throughout the day, and the new pile of dishes seems to cancel out everything else I got done and I feel like I’m back to square one.  And, instead of just being an adult, I go into avoid mode…for days or sometimes weeks.

I don’t know why I go into avoid mode.  I know that there are no faeries that are going to come in the middle of the night and clean my house.  And yet, I apparently believe that is exactly what is going to happen.  There’s just something so defeating about doing a chore and  within a few hours you’re back to square one.

I have no idea how moms do it everyday.  Take my sister-in-law, for example.  She’s mom to the two most precious, adorable, energetic little boys on the planet (nope, I’m not biased at all).  She works full time, is always helping out with things at church, and her house is gorgeous.  I am just in awe of her, and I wish I could be half the amazing woman she is.

The challenge here really is just sucking it up and being a grown up.  And now I’m going to go put another load of laundry in the washer because we are officially out of clean underwear.

Also, there’s only ten shopping days left ’til my birthday.

We built a thing!

Published January 2, 2016 by Malia

I’ll be honest, until about a year ago I really didn’t understand how to build things with Legos. I understood the concept, but I just really didn’t know how to go from understanding the concept to actually making the concept work. Fortunately, with help from the boy, I now can make them work.

When we got married, the centerpiece of one of the tables was a big basket of Legos. The lovely thing about it is that we now have a bunch of Legos to play with. Something I haven’t done until this afternoon.

Browsing the internet, I found instructions for building the Eiffel Tower. (Eiffel Tower Instructions) Pulling out my box of Legos, I quickly discovered that I didn’t have nearly enough bricks to do solid colors, but I thought I had enough to at least try. To my delight, with some help from the boy, the Tower was completed.

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Here’s the topper. She’s the only head I have in my random collection of bricks. I’m not sure she approves of me…or anything. She seems pretty judgey.

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