On Becoming a Mrs...what they don't tell you!

A while back Amy asked to guest post about "Becoming a Mrs" and all the hidden secrets of newlywed life.  Having been married for almost three years I had so many great ideas, so I bounced a few off my sister who is newly engaged.  She said she would love to read "something real" about married life...something no one will really tell you...so here it is!  A little about me, Elizabeth, and how I learned how to fight with my husband, Eric.

Eric and I had a fairy tale engagement and wedding. We could see the hand of God in every detail.

We met through a mutual friend, dated for about two years and then he proposed during my Holy Hour of Adoration at our church. Those months and years were flirty, romantic, and fun.

Our wedding was extravagant. An evening wedding at Saint Brigid (where Amy is getting married!). Long satin gowns, lush bouquets, and 250 guests. Eric and I exchanged our vows before 3 priests, 2 deacons, and 1 seminarian (sing with me…"and a partridge in a pear tree"). For better, for worse. For rich, for poor. In sickness and in health. Until death do us part.

The late-night reception was simple and elegant. A dinner, dancing and an ice cream sundae bar. Guests partied until wee hours of the morning when Eric and I realized we were getting delirious and much in need of sleep.

A limo driver whisked us away to our secret hotel room…. (I'll stop there).

The next morning we enjoyed a hot brunch in the company of our out of town family and friends. It was the perfect way to spend time with them because the wedding day was such a blur, as those things usually are. That afternoon we jetted off to California for a week of honeymooning.

That week was a whirlwind, and even the next month was too. Unwrapping gifts, moving my stuff to his our place, and sharing bottles of wine we brought back from California. We were living the married dream.

But once the last of the boxes were unpacked, and the thank you notes mailed off, reality set in.

We quickly learned that marriage wasn't just about champagne flutes and china patterns, but dirty dishes and piles of laundry.

Marriage requires a LOT of work, and not just the physical housework kind. But the kind where we are always sharing the same small, private space . The kind where we need to consult each other on every purchase to meet our financial goals. The kind that requires phone calls to let the other one know where they are…and when they're coming home.

The kind that requires learning how to fight.

I will never forget our first fight. I was home and Eric was meeting a few guys from work for a couple of drinks. No big deal, this happened a lot during our dating and engaged life. But I was waiting for him to get home…maybe a little too eagerly... and he was enjoying his time out with the guys ... maybe a little too much.

A long afternoon of unanswered phone calls later, Eric finally arrived home.

I laid into him. Screaming and throwing a fit about how and why he didn't answer the phone. Eric threw it right back in my face. And suddenly, every issue we had swept under the rug to keep the peace for the last eight months or so burst to the surface.

We had never encountered a fight of this magnitude. I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. I jumped in my car and drove around town trying to cool off for an hour.

Since we had never had a fight like this before, this seemed like the reasonable thing to do…just get out of each other's face/space.

After I cooled off, I called him to see if I could bring home a peace offering of pizza and ice cream, but Eric did not answer.

So, instead, I just drove home.

I put my key in the door to unlock it, but Eric had locked the security deadbolt, thus locking me out of OUR apartment.

.......



Read the rest over at Amy's The Charming Blog