"Parlez-vous français?"

my joe
Originally uploaded by kyra leseberg

I've been married a year and a half now. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday I was walking down the aisle, leaning against my dad as I tried to stave off a panic attack. I had spent my entire wedding day feeling nauseous and wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
I'm not ashamed to admit I had the brief panicked realization that I was about to enter into something permanent; that realization never hit me before the big day. It suddenly sounded better to live in sin for the rest of our lives where there would be no pressure to live up to expectations that are set when 2 people get married.
But just as I was talking myself out of marriage, I realized I'd cleared up the doubts I had when I considered the thought of living together for the rest of our lives. If I was sure I wanted to live with Joe for the rest of my life, why not just get married? The only thing changing essentially was my last name.
You often hear that people lose control of their body when they go into shock - that is what I was thinking about as my dad walked me down the aisle & I clutched his arm; my legs were shaking under my long poofy dress, my heart was pounding furiously, & I lost control of my facial muscles - it was as if I'd had a mini-stroke causing brief facial paralysis. I cried.
As corny as it sounds, once I saw Joe, no one else existed. Suddenly we were saying I do & exchanging wedding bands. Then there was applause as we walked down the aisle as husband & wife. My first words as a married woman were: "Let's eat!" because the panic had subsided & I realized I was starving.

People make such a big deal out of weddings: the guest list (I've actually heard someone ask the question: "Should we invite my second cousin's daughter-in-law?"), the food ("Should we splurge on the steak or serve lemon pepper chicken instead?"), blahblahblah. I walk away whenever there is a conversation regarding wedding planning. Whenever a friend has stressed over the planning, I say this: "Walk down the aisle, exchange vows and rings, kiss, & done! Then it's just about eating some good food & watching people embarrass themselves dancing."

For Joe & me, the idea of spending thousands of dollars on one day of our lives didn't make sense. We ate chicken wings & green bean casserole. Our cake was just a plain ol' chocolate cake, & the best tasting one in the history of the world I might add. Our guests were strictly family members. We had our music burned onto some CDs & pressed play. The only "splurge" was a photographer - & she was amazing!

At a year and a half of marriage, we're still learning. I don't claim to know a thing about marriage yet. I mean, marriage itself is nothing more than a legal document, but it's a relationship you have to work at, just like any other type of relationship. I have moments where Joe does something that will irritate me to no end & I don't have a clue why; something as small as leaving snack cake wrappers lying around or dirty clothes on the floor. Then there's the whole sharing the bed thing (it's not fun to wake up with someone's elbow in your face).

But then there's the fun stuff: I had Joe believing I could speak French for about the first 4 months of our marriage. It started out as a sarcastic remark where the sarcasm was lost in translation, so I just kept it going. Really all I know is: Parlez-vous francais? (Do you speak French?), Oui (Yes), Bonjour (Hello), Merci beaucoup (Thank you very much), & Au revoir (Goodbye). I began making up garbled sounds in a French accent & before I knew it, Joe thought he was telling our dog Riley to sit when really he was just making the sound "jezcee", which sounded French enough to me.
Sometimes I run in the bathroom & wrap the shower curtain around him while he's showering.
I bully him into trying new foods (the cole slaw he spit out; the fried okra he loves). He told me hates peanut butter & I decided no one can hate peanut butter so I mixed it in my homemade ice cream topping; he literally almost vomited, so it turns out someone can hate peanut butter after all.
I make fun of him when he sings the wrong lyrics (like when the song Radar Love somehow became Red Eye Love).
When I'm not doing cruel things such as those listed above, I'm collecting records, dancing in the kitchen, staying up to too late watching movies, and pondering the lyrics of Blinded By The Light with my husband.