Mama Said MYOB


Since we’ve tied the knot, lots of people have asked us, both together and separately, “how’s married life?” It’s a pretty harmless question, and that’s ok, especially when it comes from our close friends, family members, or some co-workers. I’m never really sure what they’re looking for, though, when asked. “It’s cool, I guess?” or… “Not a whole lot different from pre-married life?” or… “Now we have matching power-up rings?” Like any other probing question, regardless of however innocuous it may be, you have to figure out your audience for the appropriate response. You can respond to some people with a generic “it’s all good”/thumbs up response, so they can pat you on the head and say, “that’s nice dear;” with others, you can discuss some of the nitty-gritty life things. So.. how’s married life? Here’s my main nitty-gritty: for some reason, since we’ve gotten married, barely-even-acquaintances feel like they get to weigh in on our relationship, or that their opinions have been requested. Let me explain…

We bought a house. Ok, we bought a small part of a house, and we’ll own more of it next month, and more the month after that, but it’s still ours. I was expecting house-hunting to be lots of fun, since I’ve always been interested in seeing how other people have decorated their spaces (I think it has to do with living in a dorm room for four years.) And it was, to an extent. If I could do it all over again, though, I would go with a completely different real estate agent. She was, in a word, terrible, and I truly don’t take that criticism lightly. My main issue with her, however, was not in the absolutely minimal-to-less effort she put into the entire process. No. It was her passive-aggressive attitude towards men in general. She didn’t try to hide the fact that she loathed her ex-husband and thought the worst of guys, and I’m just standing there, only a couple of weeks past our wedding and maintaining my respect for my husband. She never failed to joke about how the creepiest, dankest little closet in the basement would be “great for a man cave,” but what really irked me is when she commented on how well I had Brian “whipped” in such a short time. Pump your brakes, lady — that’s my man you’re talking about.

Just because yours didn’t work out doesn’t mean mine isn’t really awesome.

Not too long after we returned from our honeymoon, I was back to work at both of my jobs. Several of my co-workers from one of my jobs attended my wedding, and I’ve known them for over a year and a half, and, with it being a store full of women, we’re all pretty comfortable talking about any future kiddo plans. That’s totally fine, and since many of these women have children, I like being able to bounce worries or concerns or questions off of them. However, this doesn’t apply to a certain co-worker at my other job who didn’t bother to try to learn my name for the first seven months that I worked there. He had some vague idea that I was getting married, since I’d talked about it a little with other staff members. I’m not sure if he thought he was making conversation or what, but I didn’t quite appreciate it when he interrogated me about when I’m going to start having kids as I walked through his department. “Don’t you feel that urge to hear the pitter-patter of little feet? (Me: “Not yet.”) What? All women do! Nah, you and your hubby, you guys have got to have a lot of kids.” I rolled my eyes as I kept walking.

Something that has not changed since we’ve gotten married is the fact that I still drive an hour south to visit with my mom, and normally, I’ll stay overnight, too. It’s mostly on weekends, which is nice, because it means I can go to church with her the next day. One particular Sunday, I helped my mom greet people as they came in. An older woman (mid-seventies, maybe?) came through. She only started coming to our church after I started college, so I can understand that she really wouldn’t know who I am, so my mom introduced me. When I told her I live in Youngstown with my husband, she leaned in closer and said in a hushed tone, “Well, why aren’t you there with him? Is everything alright?” Um… what? Not that its any of her business, but he was working and most people love it when their kids come to visit. I know I love to come home and visit my mom and the dogs. Psssh.

You know who else doesn’t spend every waking minute together and supports each other in their careers? Kimye.

As I’ve discussed in previous posts, I’m keeping my last name and adding Brian’s on the end. Before I got married, I asked an administrator at one of my workplaces about what I’d need to do to change that on my paperwork, and she casually asked what my new last name would be. I wasn’t quite sure how to explain what I was doing, so I just said I hadn’t decided yet. Her response? “Well, don’t just add it on to the end. I hate it when women do that.” Well… then she doesn’t have to do that, then. This still wasn’t the worst name change criticism I encountered: when I went to the Social Security office to apply for a new card, the tattoo-covered, young clerk kept asking me if I was sure that I wanted to go with “Twyf W” for my last name. He repeatedly told me how difficult that it’s going to be for legal documents, etc, and asked me why I was doing it this way. With a smile, I responded that I’ve put a lot of thought into my decision, and I was sure I wanted to stick with it. I could have been changing it to Heffalump-Woozle — his job is just to process it.


I know that this will probably only get worse if we decide to have kids, since everyone and their mother and aunt and garbage collector has an opinion on how you should do things. Plus, there’s that whole added aspect of unauthorized belly rubs. Let’s not rush me into kids any time soon, but you’re completely free to do whatever you want…



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