Marriage and Other Important Things

So, in July/August I got married to my best friend. I know this is an incredibly late post for that, but we have had a little bit going on with all the paperwork, still working 45+ hours a week, and trying to reconnect/grow as a newly wed couple.

I do hope that you will excuse the rather LONG break in my posting/writing. While I could promise to do better and to get back into writing, I won't make any false promises.

I was reminded in talking with my husband the other day about marriages that when you get married you have to really commit everything you have to your family. Whether that family is just you and your spouse or if it includes children. Some of the things that you would have done just for yourself have to become back burner things as you commit to loving and caring for them more than yourself. So for now, I will just say that my writing is not as important as my family. Every once in a while I hope to memorialize my experiences with them on here, but for the most part I will probably be pretty scarce.

That much being said, I would like to write down on here so that we look back on it some day, but my husband and I, in aforementioned conversation, both agreed that some time we would love to be part of strengthening Godly marriages. Especially in our beloved country of Uganda. I dearly hope that God opens the doors for that to come to fruition some day.

That's crazy, right? We haven't even been married 6 months yet, and we already want to be able to help other couples? Needless to say, we both have much to learn, but I do hope someday God can use us!

Brutal Truth (this post contains mature content)

Because these issues have affected my fiance's and my story much more than we can say.
Because I have younger brothers and sisters in life and faith.
Because I have a son.
And I don't like the statistics.

OCD

Well, I finally have to admit it to myself.

I am OCD.

Maybe a high functioning OCD. Is there such a thing?

I have been denying it for some time, though the subtle signs were all there, but this has finally brought it to full light. Okay, let me take you back to the story of a young mother.

In a town quite similar to the one I live in (it is the one I live in) lived a young mother not unsimilar to me (she was me). This mother was not ridiculously organized. In fact at times she was downright unorganized. She had many things going on in her life, and indeed many things that were not ideal and quite out of her control. Perhaps that is what drove her to it, but when it came to her son, she was fastidious about a few things.

1.) His outfits must be coordinated from the shirt to pants to socks. If possible the jacket, coat, or blanket shouldn't detract from the outfit either. In the rare event that laundry ran down to a level where she wasn't able to make this happen, the mother viewed herself as some sort of a mothering failure and that she had probably let her son down for life. This was also the day that he was most likely to be photographed and she would have to relive her non-matching shame in the form of a smiling face captured forever in pixels (I started to say on film, but who are we joking here).
2.) His clothes, when placed in his drawer must be folded in a certain manner and stacked in certain stacks. It would take way too long here to explain the system, for now, it should suffice to say that it was meticulous.
3.) Whenever the sheets on the bed are changed, the matching sheets on the changing table must also be changed as well as any and all coordinating blankets in use in the bed.
4.) He must only eat the African animals from the animal crackers. (in her defense, the mother realized she was doing this and the complete ludicrousness of it and did attempt to stop with only minor relapses.)
5.) His bottles must not only be to a certain standard, but they must be matching lids to bases according to their colors. Heaven forbid they ever be matched differently.

And therein lies the catcher folks.
Because one day the mother accidentally took a bottle which normally stayed at her house in to daycare. And daycare kept it for a day before returning it. But when they returned it, it was not the bottle she had sent. Indeed it was an altogether different bottle. The dishwasher at daycare had damaged some of the print off the side and the nipple was completely white from hard water stains. And in fact the top and bottom didn't even match according to color!
What could the mother do? She weakly accepted the bottle and placed it next to her son in the car to take it home. And there it has sat to this day. At least once a week she looks at it and contemplates just throwing it away because there is no way she can use it, but then she chides herself for such a waste of resources and not being able to bear to bring it inside her house, she leaves it there.

And that is the story I had to tell you today folks.
If this does not make you all want to rush over and make sure I am not going crazy, then I don't know what will because even as I am writing this I think I sound completely bonkers!

But then again, my writing is my therapy and if this helps me process... then by all means... I shall write about how crazy I have become until the day I die!

Next time: How to plan a wedding in no time at all, with no date at all, and no groom in the country!