In the early days of our marriage, Mark and I experienced a delightful honeymoon phase, which was largely thanks to our decision to live together before tying the knot. If we had embarked on our journey as newlyweds right after our honeymoon, the transition would have been far less enchanting. I can still vividly recall the initial months with my permanent roommate, and let me tell you, they were not all sunshine and roses.
I often found myself thinking, “He’s always here!” as I yearned for a moment of solitude to handle some personal grooming that I didn’t want my then-boyfriend to witness. Getting ready for our dates became a chore rather than a thrill as we battled for space on a cluttered vanity, and I frequently had to shave my legs while he occupied the bathroom in close proximity. The bed became disheveled the moment he lay down, his feet needing to “breathe” as if they had their own lungs, while socks mysteriously gathered at the foot of the bed—just to irk me. Those first few months were filled with adjustments. A LOT of adjustments.
Then there was Mark’s insistence on sharing opinions about home decor—an area I thought was exclusively mine. I remember the time he wanted to join me for a consultation with the wedding florist, professing a genuine interest in the flowers, only to doze off and snore through her presentation. Does he really care? Can’t I have flowers, bedding, scents, and curtains to myself? Hands off, love. Why not create a man cave in the basement instead?
Fast forward 15 years, and aside from the occasional squabble over who needs to replace the toilet paper or reminders that he still hasn’t taken out the recycling, I’ve grown to appreciate living with the love of my life and our wonderful children. Most days, I even enjoy it. Yet, the fantasy of a dream home—one where I could live without the chaos of kids and a husband—remains in my mind.
Would you like a glimpse?
Let’s begin in the bedroom, adorned with delicate pink bedding, free from stray hairs and crumbs from breakfast. Next, we’ll move to the bathroom, featuring a single sink devoid of hair trimmings or toothpaste smudges, and a clawfoot tub beneath a chandelier that is purely decorative. I would also have a dressing room, because, of course, a tranquil space to apply makeup and jewelry is essential.
The kitchen would revolve around my pink Cuisinart mixer and always carry the delightful scent of vanilla candles. And finally, the pièce de résistance—a dreamy gift-wrapping and crafting room, taking inspiration from the likes of Candy Spelling.
If all goes according to plan, and we live happily ever after, this dream house will remain a delightful figment of my imagination. And honestly, maybe that’s okay.
(P.S. Mark, while you were out, I decided we’re switching sides of the bed. Hope you don’t mind!)