A year ago, this week, we were frantically cleaning the house, getting ready for Best Friend Brea to come stay, then Left-brain's mom and dad while we honeymooned. We're cleaning again, somewhat less frantically. The dog seems to think something is up, because he's moping. I bought him a new toy the night before last to make him feel better--he promptly tore a hole in it and took the squeaker out. And he still carries that toy like it's the best thing ever.
It's strange to think that it's been a year (well, 4 days shy of a year) already. Best friend Brea asked me a few months ago if the transition was hard, and I have to say, by and large, it wasn't a big change. Maybe it's our age, or that we lived together for 2 years first, or something about our personalities, but it seems almost like we've always been married. And it did help, I think, that I worked from home the first six months; having that time to spend together, to send him off in the morning with a peck on the cheek, and having him come home to dinner planned and maybe started, with the trashcans put away, stamps available, groceries in the fridge, it was nice. Now that I'm launching out of the house before dawn, home again after dark, we don't have that so much, but it really makes me appreciate the time we do get together, even if it's something as simple as sitting in bed, folding laundry.
I will say that being older seems to make a bit of a difference in our marriage. We don't tiptoe around each other--if we have something to say, we say it. We bicker a bit, and get over it. But we laugh together, we tease each other--when he comes home crabby, I tell him he's acting like an "ol' bear" (think Coal Miner's Daughter), and he called me up this morning to laugh because I ran, screaming, out of the house, because I'd overslept 45 minutes. I appreciate his steadiness when I'm frantic, and, when he gets too serious, I try to lighten him up.
And he knows better than to look under the bed on my side. He's a smart man, that Left-brain I married. But shoving stuff under the bed, and the ability to do so, is what is keeping my stuff from approaching hoarder level.
I'm sure the next few years will be the hard ones--we won't be newlyweds anymore, but we won't be experts. We have some goals as a couple we're talking about--a family, buying a place to be "ours"--and it's going to soon be time to get serious about those things. But I can't think of another person I'd rather make this journey with.