Learning how to be a wife, to me is the hardest thing I have ever attempted. Those who know me, and know me well, know that I am in no way domestic. I can’t cook more than hamburger helper (which I don’t even eat beef so a fat lot of good that does me). I am not naturally an organized person and my cleaning skills are the equivalent of a college freshman. So, it’s safe to say that the hubs didn’t marry me for my mad domestic skills. Even more so I am not and have never been “an easy person to live with”, I am VASTLY opinionated, loud, dramatic, emotional and on occasion unbalanced.
I know what you’re thinking, I sound like a total gem- right?
All of my short comings aside, there still is this man who loves me enough to know who I am and want me anyway…. which is of course fabulously romantic and should put my life into this wonderful perspective. I should be aspiring to take long walks on the beach with him, write him sonnets and dedicate my life to figuring out the mystery of food preparation. Alas, I am still moody, I am still critical and all of my rich blessings and warm gooey feelings haven’t changed my behavior, which is still- struggling.
What is a little ironic about that is the fact that I am in fact a behavior therapist ….. That’s right, I spend all day correcting others behavior, taking data on behavior, creating intervention plans and yet I can’t stop myself from stomping my feet and saying rude things at the drop of a hat.
I’m still hoping that with some practice, a lot of prayer and a few good books I will get a hold of this bizarre concept: the concept of spending the rest of your life with another person, enduring all the daily mundane tasks, jumping every imaginable hurdle and still loving them ….. Marriage. There is no one else I would ever try this with, and not a doubt in my mind that I am in fact, the lucky one.