Please welcome today;s guest poster, Bloggymommer!

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Bloggymommer met a really nice geek online, then she got married and lived Happily Ever After.™ The End.

She is still getting over the shock of learning to live with a *boy,* taking care of a home, and moving from the suburbs to West Los Angeles. Oh, and now there’s a baby on the way. Piece of cake!

In 2006, we had been married just a year. I talked him into We had chosen to start our lives in a 650 square-foot, one-bedroom apartment. We paid pennies for rent, and saved like squirrels. It was important to me to start our marriage off in the black. And we did it. Together.

We paid off his car, we paid off my student loans, and we lived off his income. That year, I put a third of my income into The Down Payment Fund. Because real estate in California, it has to get better soon, right? Right?

That Guy I Married already had a kitchen full of stuff. We registered for two whole kitchen gadgets, and then spent 4 months going to five stores trying to figure out where people bought 6 cookie sheets, 5 cupcake pans, 3 crock pots and 2 blenders so we could return them. Because there was just no room.

I pulled this video up today, and almost died laughing, not just because I can’t sing. I had forgotten that this moment, this tiny kitchen, his habit of pulling out the camera at the most embarrassing times (usually while I’m cooking), has become a part of who I am.

This was the year that we looked at each other weekly and said “We got married!?” This was the year that I got in the habit of buying Honey Nut Cheerios, and saving money by sealing dinners in the Food Saver. This was the year that I rewashed the same four lead-crystal glasses every day, because we didn’t have room for a full set. This was the year he worked from home, in the living room, with no sanctuary to call his own.

The mega-shelf in the kitchen was our first joint home improvement project. The first of many where I said “Well, I need something that…” and he came home from Home Depot with a solution.

This was the year that I learned it was okay to sing a song when I felt like it, because I know I won’t be laughed at (well, I won’t be told to shut up) in Our Home.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IhLGKoSJF-0[/youtube]

In case it’s bad enough that you can’t tell, this is my version of The “Toreador Song” from Georges Bizet’s opera Carmen. Apparently, the bullfighter song is French. I thought it was Italian. Perhaps I should have stuck with “That’s Amore,” but what do you want for improve? And, It’s my kitchen, I’ll sing what I want.

Today, we still rent, we still sit on a 30-year-old couch, the dog gets a daily walk instead of a yard, and we still have nowhere to store the Tupperware. But, we have learned to make room for what matters.

There is room, on one side of the office, for our baby’s crib. There is room in the closet for Baby’s clothes, even if everything has to be precariously stacked strategically placed. There’s room for a shelf to place Baby’s keepsakes.

There is room at the dinner table to have my cousin over for lunch. There’s room in the freezer for food, and there’s money to put food in the freezer.

There is time. There’s time for dinner together every night. There is time to eat hot wings with teenaged freaks in tutus. There is time today, to enjoy a grande venti Soy Hot Chocolate with an Add Shot of Espresso and a tall decaf Mocha Latte on our lunch break.

There is room for our photos to hang on the walls. Always enough room, even as we build so many more memories.

This is the home, and the life that I wanted. Thank you Honey, for making room.

Drop by and say hello to Bloggymommer by visiting her here. You’re welcome to put your feet up on her couch, but watch out for dog hair.

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 14th, 2008 at 8:00 am and is filed under After (the) Birth, Guest Authors, daily. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.