When Your Spouse Inconveniences You

Woah slow your roll with that title. Inconvenience is not a word you want associated with the LOL (Luv ofya life)

And that’s my point.

Because sometimes this world gets the upper hand over better judgement and that’s how you feel. Inconvenienced.

You know what 2 words can be associated with inconvenient? “Self” and “change”

Basically: something changes and isn’t going YOUR way so you don’t like it because you’re thinking only of yourself.

My husband recently made a pretty hefty life change. Something that switched up the routine we’ve been in every day for the last 3 years. Something he’s needed to do mentally and physically for his happiness, which has been pushed to the back burner. Actually, completely off the stove if I’m being honest. Because big changes are scary but bills and responsibility are scarier.

Nonetheless, when he told me he finally took the plunge I was instantly irritable. Not mad, but slightly pissy. How could he inconvenience Us like this in December, right before Christmas?! How could he just mess up my

whole flow? I’m going to have to redo everything that I’m used to doing. Ugh!

And there’s my sign. I was inconvenienced.

But I never took into account how my husband must feel, how stressed he must be, how he’s handling the weight of being responsible for our family’s well being.

I never talked to him about how he was feeling about any of it. Instead, I just gave him a list of “musts” to follow that would put some convenience back in my day.

And now, I feel like I missed an opportunity to be there for my husband and support him as he’s done for me countless times. All my wildness and dreams and career changes and goals have never once inconvienced him. He’s either helped me make and execute a plan, or helped me off the ledge.

I think the silent killer of most marriages today is, I. Especially for us “youngins”.

Being married at 22 really wasn’t something I would’ve ever imagined for myself. But God gave me a husband at that time for a reason. He knew I needed my husband or else I’d probably still be 90 to nothing. Never taking time to soak in this sweet life I’ve been given. He also knew it would due me some good to think of someone other than myself for once in my life.

I see you, God.

Navigating marriage is a whole lot of “us” and a whole lot less of “me”. You are not only thinking of someone else but also putting them before yourself, and making their happiness and dreams and goals one with your own. Neither being more important than the other, but equal. They shouldnt be considered an inconvenience to your life, they should be an enhancement to your life.

I encourage you to take time out of your day to think about your spouse and evaluate your own behavior.

Am I contributing to or disrupting their peace?

Are they happy?

Am I inviting them to communicate with me or am I jumping to conclusions and shutting them down?

Am I walking with them through life or am I just dragging them down the path I like best?

Make adjustments when necessary. Marriage isn’t at its best when you’re each giving 100, it’s best when you show up on the days they need you to give them your 80 when they only have 20.

PS: it will 110% ALWAYS be an inconvenience when my husband puts his plate right beside the counter instead of in it, but hey. We’ll work on it.

Bees & Billionaires

About 6 months into wedding planning, richard and I decided we should just “elope”. Not really  elope, because it wasn’t a secret, but have a simplified destination wedding. I have Dom Perignon taste on a Natty Lite budget. I was trying to put on a Beyoncé-esque production with dollar tree DIYs. It wasn’t going accordingly, as you can imagine. But alas, my husband was the voice of reason. He was all “it’s about the marriage not the wedding”…. makes since. So in the end we decided to head to the Virgin Islands and get hitched. Because the beach is my happy place, margaritas are my kryptonite, and reggae is the soundtrack of my soul. I know what you’re thinking, budget???? but getting married in the Virgin Islands was extremely reasonable compared to the 25-30k price tags most weddings boast. 

My family was coming along and when they got there they were greeted by their travel agent at the ferry dock. The ferry dock can get a little chaotic, with a mixture of tourists, frequent flyers, and locals dispersing and congregating here and there, but thankfully there is Joe’s Rum Hut and they make the absolute best margarita. If you told me there was a better one, I would call you a liar. I could use some colorful adjectives to describe that margarita and the way it touches my soul, but I’ll keep it PG. 

Anyways, their travel agent said there was a “little problem” with the rental they had booked. It was infested with bees! My sister is highly allergic to bees. I mean I wasn’t there, but I can see my mother’s face when they said that and I’m sure it was hysterical. 

The travel agent said, “well, there’s only one other rental available and so we have to put you there”. They really thought they were going straight to the slumps, but they were wrong… 

I’m sure they were all moaning and groaning and eyes rolling as the travel agent drove them to their “make shift” housing. Thinking their vacation was going to be ruined. My mom was probably cussing, sloshing a margarita around as she waved her hands talking smack (I had to get it from someone). I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall when they got driven to the top of the cliff in Peter Bay and pulled in to the gated community only to realize they were going to be living like Billionaires for the week. (Okay maybe just millionaires, or hundreds of thousands-aires but for title’s sake, Billionaires) 

These lucky dogs get taken to a palace. I’m not being dramatic(for once).

It was a palace. 

Y’all, I was waiting for Kenny Chesney to knock on the door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar.

It’s called the Cliff House because, well, it’s at the very top of the cliff with an infinity pool that meets the Caribbean over looking Cinnamon Bay, which is of course the beach we were going to be getting married on. It was the ultimate house on a hill.

This house was one in a million for these small town Alabamaians. I cried over the master bathroom. The fixtures and flooring were made of coral. It was a work of art, but the tears were mostly due to the fact that mine and my husband’s rental house had a compost toilet (not even going there at the moment). 

For the remainder of the trip we spent most of our time at the house, because when would we ever spend a week in a house that normally costs $25,000 per week again? Never. Unless we hit the lottery, which my dad says won’t ever happen because all of our luck was spent, thanks to the bees. We sunbathed, danced on the bars, drank from the stocked mini fridge by the pool(okay we emptied that the first night), celebrated our marriage, and acted like the rich fools we weren’t. 

Needless to say, I got my Dom Perignon wedding on my Natty Lite budget because the Lord works in mysterious ways and my sister gets hives. The End.