Andrew and I rarely fight. Sure, we bicker, disagree, annoy, nag (well, i do) and some days I am pretty sure he wants to return me right back where he found me. Luckily, most of our disagreements last less than 10 minutes…but when we do decide to fight, we really fight.
Andrew and I’s fighting styles are outrageously different.
I have a large arsenal of vocabulary words at my disposal and I tend to pull out the sharpest I can find. I string together arguments and rants so impeccably delivered that Andrew usually stands there with a slightly stunned expression on his face. Partly because I just made my side of the argument sound like the “right side” but mostly because what I just said was really, really mean. These rants are usually followed by some dramatic exit from the room including stair stomping and door slamming before I collapse on the bed in exaggerated tears.
Andrew’s approach is much different. He is the most even keeled, patient person on this planet. When things begin to escalate he likes to remove himself from the situation and he becomes very, very quiet. There is no discussing the problem, there is no expressing emotion; its like watching television try to find its cable signal. This approach…absolutely infuriates me. Fury really isn’t a strong enough word. While he goes to another room to watch TV I am still sobbing on the bed; pissed and feeling guilty about what I have already said.
So I do what any other reasonably sane young woman would do…I barge into whatever room he has taken his retreat and begin another rant. It isn’t until I have him yelling back (when he yells I know I have really really pissed him off) that I am satisfied. This satisfaction is usually short-lived because I am irrationally outraged that he would even consider raising his voice at me. Repeat dramatic exit.
Are you exhausted yet?
…at this point the post-tears headache has set in, my eye make-up is nestling comfortably on my pillow and I have officially lost all of my fight; this is usually the moment in which Andrew opens the bedroom door slowly…comes to the bed and kisses my forehead. Sometimes he says sorry first, but most of the time I do. We play the “next time game”, i.e. “I think we could avoid this fight if next time you just did this…” And then we forgive each other and eat something (fighting makes me hungry!!)
I know what you are all thinking…”how dysfunctional.” Some of you are probably wondering if I have ever heard the quote “forgiven but not forgotten” and thinking I should keep my sharp tongue under control. You’re probably right. But are any couple’s fights functional? No, they’re not. That’s why its called a fight.
When Andrew and I finish a fight of this magnitude (just to be clear this might happen twice in an entire year) we feel embarrassed & exhausted…but mostly relieved. A good fight once in a while is much like undergoing a rapid juice cleanse. It is painful, uncomfortable and leaves you with several awful memories…but at the end, once you’ve put your digestive system back together…you have to admit, you feel refreshed!
In approximately 48 hours I will be boarding a plane with my friends en route to San Diego! Exciting right? RIGHT! What some people have found strange is that Andrew, my fiance, will not be one of those friends on that plane or on that trip. “You’re going on vacation without your fiance?” I’ve been asked by several people, usually with a slightly judgmental look on their face. “Yep.” I respond while I enjoy the awkwardness as they wait for some sort of explanation… he has to work (which he does) we couldn’t afford it if we both went (we couldn’t)…but they’re not getting an explanation because I don’t believe one is warranted.
I suppose Andrew and I have become a “we”. We do most things together. We pay our bills. We begin most sentences with we. But while Andrew and I exist as a “we”. I think we both have a definite “me”. Which is important.
In our world an engagement or even a marriage does not mean one does not do anything without the other. Instead, it just requires that one does not do anything without thinking of the other. There are many times you will find me out with my friends without Andrew on my arm; either because he had to work or because he didn’t feel up to a night out. And there are plenty of times you will find Andrew playing softball with friends and having beers without me because that is his thing, his “me time”.
When it came time to decide on the trip I took Andrew into consideration. Will Andrew be bummed he isn’t going with? You bet. Will he miss me? Definitely. I’ll miss him too! It goes without saying that I discussed the trip with Andrew before it was planned, but I didn’t ask for his permission. He didn’t expect me to ask for his permission. Instead, I acknowledged his response and based my decision on that. Lucky for me I am marrying one of the most wonderful people on the planet, so of course he thought it was a great idea that I go to see one of my oldest friends, even if it was without him.
That is a relationship, an engagement & a soon to be marriage. And I like it.
I just joined the Tumblr craze. I know it was only a matter of time before my Pinterest fix would be too much and I would be looking for another fix. I found it.
In case you are a Tumblr addict as well…or maybe because you just can’t get enough of me you can check out my Tumblr here::
Anyways, I was perusing the “wedding” tag this evening and soaking in all of the beautiful wedding images when I encountered this short post::
I can’t wait to be married
So that Joe and I can buy our groceries and make our bed (or not) and make cookies all the time, dance in the kitchen, and snuggle under blankets every night before bed and nobody has to go home.
I can’t wait to have joint things.
“That’s Joe and Katie’s couch.”
…this made me pause. Andrew and I already buy our groceries. It is our couch. And we make a joint decision every day not to make our bed. I had to ask myself…do couples that live together prior to marriage miss out on something?
I decided quickly that the answer was no, not necessarily.
Images of Andrew’s toothpaste splatter all over the bathroom suddenly invaded my mind. Initially, I was jealous of the romance involved in starting your life together in so many different ways. Andrew and I are going to come home from our honeymoon to the same house we shared for years, we’re going to get in the same bed and buy the same groceries. And love each other in the same way.
And just when I was about to kick Andrew’s butt out, sell the house and spend the rest of our engagement in two separate and very small 1-bedroom apartments I realized something. Isn’t even more romantic that I am choosing Andrew and our life together with all of the facts? His toothpaste will always be splattered across the bathroom, his snoring will continue to cost me my sleep, his obsession with discussing the lawn will have my eyes rolling into the back of my head and his test strips will be all over the house…but despite that, despite all of it I can’t wait to have him and his mess and his snoring under the same roof for the rest of my life. Making that choice, even with reality crashing down on top of us, is more romance than anyone could ever hope for.
You are already intrigued. I know you are.
This title is a very short yet accurate description of what I imagine “pregnant Hayley” will be. My hesitation to have children is public knowledge…I’m not ashamed to admit that having a dependent, slobbery bundle of “joy” is not at the top of my to-do list. But my distaste for pro-creation goes beyond that of raising the child…because “dread” is not a strong enough word to describe how I feel about actually being pregnant.
I am a 24-year-old who has 3 different doctors (specialist, nonetheless) in my contact “favorites”. In the past year I have had more tests ran than most 60-year-olds have had done in their life. I’m probably dying…but I can’t confirm that yet. Needless to say…I am not exactly hopeful that a pregnancy of mine will be “easy”. I expect to have to endure most of the “side-effects”…morning sickness? Definitely. Intense heartburn? Obviously. Fatigue? Of course! I will also probably be in labor for 37 hours without any sort of pain medicine because my body will react unfavorably to it. Are you all keeping up with me here? It is really going to suck.
Aside from the health issues I am going to be hideous. Picture a less attractive version of a pregnant Jessica Simpson.
Oh for the love of God…….
I will not be one of those girls whose baby belly is perky and cute…and I can’t even begin to imagine what my already large breasts are going to decide to do with themselves. Andrew is going to be so unimpressed.
It doesn’t stop there. Some would describe me as a very emotional girl. Okay, that’s not true…everyone would describe me as a very emotional girl. I can’t see a homeless person on the street without my thoughts racing to find a solution, a way I can help. I can’t plan even a second of my wedding without being reduced to happy tears. I take everything personal and when I get hungry…or drunk I can get really really mean. Hangry & Drangry as Andrew likes to call it. I just don’t see a real smooth transition into pregnancy hormones. I will be…for the lack of a more unique term…f’ing crazy.
So you see…my pregnant future is looking pretty bleak. But, I do see a potential for an excellent blog chronicling all of the crazy and unattractiveness! So that’s something, I guess…
I don’t think anyone anticipated the excitement with which Andrew would dive into planning this wedding…I know that I certainly did not. I mean…previous events were planned solely by me and Andrew was told where to be and when; I imagined that this wedding would be similar. I was wrong. So. Wrong. From the minute this (beautiful) ring was placed on my finger Andrew has wanted to be an integral part of the planning process. A mere 24 hours after our engagement he sat by my side at the computer as we explored my (slightly premature) wedding board on Pinterest. He let me show him all 460 pins in detail and seemed to be…enthralled by the whole thing.
When the first wedding show came to town he insisted that he come along. Insisted! And as we walked around that room tasting cake, exploring floral options and testing out color combos the other brides looked at me enviously as though I was “the groom whisperer”. I have to admit…I was feeling pretty smug; planning this event didn’t seem so troublesome when I considered sharing the work with my Andrew. Things did, however, take a turn for the worse when the topic of the dress came to the forefront of our discussions….
“I don’t want it to have too much poof.” I remember Andrew explaining as he moved his arms about in a strange manner. I laughed at his attempt and explained to him that the dress really wasn’t his concern that he would love whatever I picked. It was supposed to end there…it didn’t. “I just don’t want you to walk down the aisle and I don’t like the dress.” Andrew elaborated further. Have I ever mentioned how honest Andrew is? It is a trait I have learned to love…most of the time. “Andrew! I don’t care if I walk down the aisle in a re-purposed garbage bag (they exist, I’ve seen them on Pinterest)…you should like what you see!” I told him, feeling pretty insulted. I mean…I think I have fairly good taste in clothes, most people have nothing but positive things to say about my wardrobe choices and I feel pretty comfortable that I will be able to apply that taste to a gown everyone will adore. I explained this to him in with the hope that he would understand that I felt I was being insulted and he would drop the conversation. He didn’t. “I like about 90% of the things you wear, it’s that 10% I don’t like that worries me.” He replied taking a big drink of his Diet Mountain Dew. I felt like smacking the damn pop bottle right out of his hand and shoving this pretty engagement ring down his throat. I didn’t. He’s lucky I like my ring so much.
After days of constant bickering regarding my dress (he even had the balls to suggest he should be there when I try them on, ha!) I came to a realization. This is our wedding, not mine; and “the dress” plays an integral part of our wedding. His opinion should be considered….carefully. While it is my dress…I am essentially putting it on for him.
There was no way in hell I was letting him see the dress before I walked down the aisle but I did come up with a compromise. I gathered 10 dresses I found on Pinterest, The Knot, etc. and emailed the pictures to him. In the email I asked him to rank each dress (1-10) 10 being his favorite, 1 being his least. He loved it and I got an excellent idea of what Andrew likes..and good news… the kid actually has pretty good taste! I have been emailing him pictures and examples periodically ever since…and I think we both feel better about the entire situation.
And if you are at all interested in my wedding dress style…check out my Pinterest board The Dress!
I have a thing for “firsts”. I can’t help it…I think every “first” should be extra special. Unfortunately, after getting engaged everything becomes a “first” again. I really do mean everything.
“Today is our first road trip as engaged couple!”
“This is our first grocery trip as an engaged couple!”
“This is our first movie night as an engaged couple!”
You can imagine that Andrew might be a little bit beyond frustrated with me at this point. Especially because a very big “first” has finally arrived…our First Valentine’s Day as an engaged couple! Exciting stuff right? I thought it was exciting until a few weeks ago when I found out Andrew had to work (2pm-10pm)…doesn’t leave much time for the epic evening I was hoping for. True to form I threw a fit…I mean isn’t this ring on my finger insurance that I don’t spend a holiday such as Valentine’s Day…ALONE?!
Luckily emotional Hayley fled quickly and rational Hayley took her place. It dawned on me that this ring in fact means that Andrew and I have years…LOTS OF YEARS to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I can’t even imagine the things that will happen in all of those years to prevent us from spending some Valentine’s Days, birthdays, anniversaries, etc. together. We will have to make the best of it.
So it was decided (mostly by me) that I would plan something extra special for Valentine’s Day night in the few precious hours we have after Andrew gets home and before we have to go to bed and Andrew would plan something special for Wednesday (the day after) since he has that night off. Our very first Valentine’s day as an engaged couple will last 48 hours…I think that classifies as an extra special “first”.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
The Kardashians do a lot of things I don’t condone, so I should probably clarify this title a bit right out of the gate. I am specifically referring to Kourtney & Scott’s sleeping arrangement…which is not in the same bed…or bedroom for that matter. Andrew and I’s latest disagreement has to do with this very decision…how bad is it for our relationship if we sleep in separate bedrooms?
Maybe this is a good time to introduce you to Andrew…
He’s adorable right? Right. But there is nothing adorable about him snoring like a freight train in my ear at 3:00am, and I highly doubt he finds my “Andrewwww, you are snoring AGAIN. Roll over. No roll this way, I SAID roll over” very attractive either. By the next morning we are both sleep deprived and obviously grouchy. To make matters worse Andrew prefers to keep the TV on alllll night long. All night. He will wake up randomly, channel surf and then fall back asleep. And I am left being jarred awake by the intro to Sponge Bob Square Pants. Its nowhere near ideal.
All that being said…we still find it difficult to go our separate ways at the end of the day. We have so little time together as it is with separate and hectic schedules. So comes the time to ask…Do we spend the rest of our lives together sleeping apart..or do we spend the rest of our lives together especially tired?
My proposed solution? A sleep schedule. Thursday night-Saturday night (nights in which I can go without a little sleep) he is in bed with me. Sunday night-Wednesday night he kisses me goodnight and heads off to bed. While I recognize this schedule is far from romantic…so is harboring thoughts of smothering him with a pillow in the middle of the night. (I really wouldn’t do that..I don’t think.)
Now we hope for the best. I’ll keep you posted.
After Andrew proposed everyone I encountered asked the same question, “so, what is it like being engaged!?” Usually their voice raised an octave or two at the end making it sound like an extra exciting question…which always left me with the pressure of providing an extra exciting response. I never had one.
The hours following the engagement were obviously some of the most exciting of my life…but by the next morning very few things had changed for the positive. So we are spending the rest of our lives together…didn’t we already know that? We get to plan an outrageously expensive and detailed wedding….are we sure we want to do that? I will not put on a wedding gown until I am 15 pounds lighter…do I really want to diet? I like to call this the “post-engagement funk”.
Once the funk had lifted we were left with the daunting task of planning a wedding and the rest of our lives together. Suddenly, things that never used to bother me were beginning to. “Andrew, do you really think it’s a good idea to eat in front of the TV EVERY SINGLE NIGHT??! What about our future children? Do we want them to be couch potatoes? Huh??” These are usually followed by a breakdown about my inability to even be in the same room as a child. “I can’t have kids! I hate kids, they hate me. I DON’T WANT TO BE called ‘mommy’, what if they get your diabetes? What if they get my slow metabolism and non-existent immune system? What if the two of us making a child is the biggest disaster to ever happen?!” Then there are the moments when Andrew will do something especially annoying (i.e. leave his clothes and socks strewn around the LIVING ROOM) that I realize these annoying habits aren’t going away…often times I pause in a situation and think…this is our life.
The good news is…that despite all of the uncertainty I know we will have to tackle in life. Children, bills, careers, bad days-weeks-years…I know that Andrew is the one I want next to me through it all. Being in love is not all passion and kind words; its respect, trust and a strong will to forgive.
Last week when I was incredibly sick with the cold/flu Andrew came home from work late one night and woke me, only slightly, from my NyQuil induced coma. I didn’t say anything, I barely opened my eyes. He sat down next to me on the bed, brushed the back of his very cold hand across my cheek before pressing his own cheek against my forehead to check my temperature. I must have passed the temperature test because he kissed me, fixed the blankets and left the room to wind down from work. I drifted off with the cool imprint of his cheek tingling on my forehead; this is our life, I thought…and its a good one.
As most of you, if you pay any attention at all, have realized…this is not my usual blog Hayley’s Comment. Sorry, but sometimes life changes and your blogging patterns just have to change right along with it! So I would like to present Young, Lovely & A Little Bit Mean…my take on “engagement bliss”. Those of you who know me and/or followed Hayley’s Comment are well aware that I am honest, sometimes too honest. Life, especially my life, is just too funny not to share the details. The details involving Andrew and I’s newly engaged status and the ordeal of putting on a wedding deserved their own special place..so here it is! A blog dedicated to the arguments, embarrassments, good & bad days, and everything else that goes into putting a lot of money, time and emotion into one day.
I’m sure you’re wondering about the title…Young, Lovely & A Little Bit Mean. Shortly after getting engaged I was at the Nail Spa for a manicure. The woman filing away at my nails spoke very little English but she did notice and compliment me (I think?) on my ring. I said thank you but my mind was fixated on the little boy running around the nail spa with a Fun Dip. Who brings your kid to the nail spa? Who gives your kid pure sugar? He was getting awfully close to my Coach purse and I didn’t like it. “It’s always better to marry young.” The woman interrupted my thoughts again. This perked my interest, “oh, you think so?” I asked. “Ohhh yes, young and lovely.” She said nodding at me. I had already decided she was going to get a wonderful tip when the little guy paused to stand right next to me. What…the…f…? I tried to look over my shoulder for his mother but the lady had a firm grip on both of my hands. The boy stared at me for a minute before I turned to him, “do you need something?” I thought I asked in the nicest tone I could muster. “I think your MEAN.” He said managing to spit little specks of blue fun dip in my face as he finished “mean” much louder than necessary. That was when his mother wobbled over in those foam flip-flops, grabbed his hand and proceeded to give me a dirty look. I was a bit ruffled, I mean..I didn’t really do anything? I guess I was a little bit mean…most people would have said something cheerful or commented on his blue mouth. By the end of the manicure I had stewed enough to decide that the kid was right…I am mean, at least a little bit…but I was keeping the young and lovely compliment. 🙂
It wasn’t until today…when I tried to picture the next 495 days of my engagement that I remembered that story…and for some reason “Young, Lovely & A Little Bit Mean” seemed to wrap it up nicely.