(We Survived The) First Year of Marriage

I can't believe that this weekend 

it will be one year since 

Cody's grandmother Laflin married us 

under the tall steeple 

of an old brick church 

in a little Indiana town. 

First Year of Marriage...Frankly, We've Both Survived.

Everyone warns couples about how tough the first year of marriage is. And while our first year has experienced far more sunburn and thistles than it did sunshine and roses, it's been a pretty great ride. The fact that Cody was on the road 364 nights over the last twelve months may have had something to do with it. We were always strangely glad to see one another. 

We lived by this. Weekly. 

Except for the day he realized I had sold his grill in the garage sale. That was a day that I worked quite late at the office then drove the long way home going 30 mph. 

First birthday milestones seem to be a big deal. Just ask Pinterest (<-- you can follow this blog, there):

Cakes, hats, excessive gifts and homemade paper plates made of recycled dryer sheets and organic glue made from free-range horses. 

We'll likely spend our first anniversary at church, then El Rodeo, then mowing and then capped off by a pasture ride to check the herd. 

Perfect. Day.

But as one does with any milestone, one year of marriage has us sitting down to reflect on the past year and the lessons learned:

Living together. 

With tiny closets. 

And one bathroom. 

With water that - at any given moment -  turns Kool-aid purple. 

Bottled. Farm Fresh. 

And two barn cats, which only one of us feeds. 

Wanna guess which one?

...Starts with "C" and ends with "ody".

Three Things Learned from 

One Year of Marriage

1. We communicate our needs differently:

When Cody needs me to do something he communicates it in this (interesting) way:

"I'm going to start moving hay this afternoon. If you have any time later, I need you to pick up rocks where we buried that electric line. Can you do that, please?"

Umm...OK???

My way to  communicate my need for he to do something:

"Are those your pants on the floor?"
....referencing the pair of men's starched Cinch jeans laying on our bedroom carpet. 
Which are obviously his. 
That he left on the floor. 
And he needs to pick up and put in the laundry. 


We both look at the jeans, then each other. 
"Who else's would they be?" he asks. 

Somehow, he misses the point, every time. How could I be more clear?

2. We are no longer the exact same person: 

When we were dating, I found our similarities to be remarkable. 
Same beliefs, 
goals, 
passions 
and love for travel that included people watching. 

Now we sit down to enjoy a TV  show and it's like we're strangers at completely different stages of our lives. 
While he's got the remote, the commercials revolve around Gatorade, The Dollar Shave Club, and Taco Bell. 

This day and age, who doesn't Shave Time, Shave Money?

 ^A Must Watch

When I'm in charge of the remote, I remember to take my fiber, find the Life Alert commercials all too real and begin to strangely - yet seriously - consider a Colonial Penn plan.

Reason 385,694,672,115 why I dislike cats. 

3. Some Acts of Kindness(Actually Do) Go Unnoticed

I remember well when last winter Cody came home late. Like any new wife, I put on a new perfume, sure to impress. 
It was called Pure White Linen - (I thought) it smelled as though our house was spotless and perfect. 
I heard Cody bust through the doors downstairs, kick off his boots, brush his teeth, climb the rugged stairs, set his alarm, lie down and take a deep breath. 
Five seconds later he asked:
"What the?......Have you been cleaning with Lysol wipes?"

NOPE. Just trying to impress. 

Two weeks later Cody was proud as an overly-confident peacock as he reported that he saved me a trip to and from the next town over by taking our homestead trash to demolition. Until I pointed out that he forgot any trash bag that had come from the inside of the house.......he had transported farm trash, only. 

Good news, Buckaroo: The four heat detect patches and two Coors Light bottles you tossed last week made the journey. 

But the 
Coffee grounds. 
Toilet paper. 
Junk mail.
Dirty paper plates. 
Banana peels. 
Bad onions.
Leftovers. 
Are. All. Still. Around. Under. The. Kitchen. Sink.

Nice try, Marcus Stewart. Maybe next time. 

Our first year =

365 short days.

1 diamond. 

3 rings.

1 old farmhouse.

6 (little) rooms.

48 Angus prints; 12 available walls.

884 tears of frustration and learning.

2 (too many) barn cats. 

38 corncrib boards for trim. 

4 vet appointments.

8 pairs of jeans mended.

3 proud American flags. 

59 plastic cups salvaged

8,864 laughs. 

And one blog to record every bit of it. 

Forget the sunshine and rainbows...
Anyone else gag when cleaning the toilet?

It's only been one year: 
I'll get over that, right?