Tag Archives: marriage

Ikea happened to us.

The last Wednesday in August, we went to Ikea. “We” included me and my husband, my mom, and my mother-in-law Sara.

In preparation for the trip, my husband and I made an exhaustive list of everything we were looking for (measurements included). But no amount of preparation can really ready the soul for a day of shopping in this massive store.

We were there for (wait for it . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . .)

. . . 10 1/2 hours. From about 40 minutes after the store opened until right after the store closed. We ate there no less than 3 times–lunch (Swedish meatballs!), a revitalizing coffee/cupcake snack, and dinner (mozzarella panini!).

To explain why we were there so friggin’ long, you must know that a lot was going on–we were shopping for a bedroom set, a crib, shoe benches for our entry area, shelving, bins, a CD/DVD storage shelf, and about a million other things which required a lot of deliberation. My mom was also looking around for benches and chairs for her new house, and Sara was window-shopping for couches and livingroom furniture for her new house.

To add to that, there was a snafu in which two Ikea reps (on two different floors, involving two different computer searches) told us at the end of our time there while we were placing our order for delivery service (well, what we thought was the end of our time there) that the dresser we wanted was sold out. So we reconfigured our bedroom furniture plan and switched out the dresser to another slightly less desirable one, only to discover after checking out that there were piles and piles of the exact piece we wanted in the middle of the warehouse area floor. Which involved trips through Customer Service and Returns to get back to our original order.

All in all, it’s very hard to nail an adjective to the experience. Was it fun? No, not “fun” per se . . . but was it hellish? No, not hellish or even especially miserable . . . It was just kind of stunning. Not stunning as in beautiful, but stunning as in getting stunned.

It’s something akin to that blank sense of surprise when something hits you hard, and though you can’t feel the effects yet, you know they’re coming in about 2 seconds. You’re in a strange limbo that can only be described as The Void Before the Pain.

I love Ikea because I love all the things we got (and the prices at which we got them!). But do I love shopping at Ikea?

We’ll just say that I survived it.

And that I need at least 3 years before I’ll be ready for another such trip.

And that if and when that next trip ever happens, I need my mom.

Seven years

Today is our 7th wedding anniversary.

I had just turned 22. I had been to almost no weddings, since we were among the first of our group of friends to tie the knot. I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t get a manicure, or research hairdressers, or even think about my hairstyle until the morning of the wedding (!?).

Basically, I was blissfully caught up in my man and completely unconcerned about everything else.

Even though I had a terrible hairdo, mostly hate the pictures (I’m only sharing ones I can tolerate and have Photoshopped, heh heh) and would basically do everything differently if I had to do it again, I still cherish this day so much. Because, as my dad said, it’s not the wedding but the marriage that counts.

I’ve always remembered him saying that, and taken comfort in the fact that despite my willy-nilly approach to wedding planning, my general lack of preferences and research, and all the moving parts I failed to even think about–the wedding is secondary. Make that extremely secondary.

The point is this beautiful relationship, and August 13th just happened to mark the first day of it.

I had waited for this day for so long, it seemed like it would never come. After 4 years of striving for self-control and trying to stay physically pure amidst our obsession with each other, I could hardly believe that in one day the boundaries would go away, and we would be free. (And oh was it ever worth the painfully difficult wait–young, umarried thangs take note!)

So I guess our throw-it-together/we-have-no-idea-what-we’re-doing/who-cares-anyway approach is kind of precious. We were young. We’d been dating for 4 years and just wanted to get to the good part. The part where I didn’t have to go home at the end of each evening together.

After all, what are drooping hairstyles and bad pictures when I was about to become one with the man God had gently and securely tied to my heart?

Happy anniversary, baby! I’ve loved every year . . . every month . . . every day.