The Old Grey Mare, She Ain't What She Used to Be...

There comes a time in the life of every marriage when you have to sit down and take stock of what you have together as a couple. At some point you look around and realize that things just aren’t as new as they used to be. Perhaps they are a little worn or in some cases even broken, and you look at each other and say, “What in the hell happened to all of our stuff? Everything is falling apart!”


What? You knew that’s where I was going, didn’t you? How about you Sweetie? Mike?...Mike?...Hang on, let me get the smelling salts.

Ok, so as I was saying, seven and a half years of marriage have been a little rough on all of our household items and all of that great stuff that we got as wedding gifts is kind of falling apart. The things that we already owned and brought into our marriage have frankly seen better days, but as far as our marriage goes, our marriage is hotter and spicier than ever. Grrrrrrr Baby!

I remember right after I had my wedding shower, how excited I was to open everything and put all of our new stuff in its place. The dishes sparkled, the towels glimmered, and as far as the eye could see everything was new. Fast forward seven years later and things are starting to show their age. The rubber grips on my pots and pans still prevent third-degree burns IF you make sure to line up both pieces that are barely hanging on. Our microwave finally gave up the good fight and died a couple of months ago. The dishwasher that came with Mike as part of a combination bed/dishwasher/husband deal has gotten so lazy that using it is about the equivalent of blowing our dishes clean. House ware items of all kinds are choking and hacking up a lung right in front of me and our kitchen seems to be the place where appliances go to die.

It’s overwhelming to look around and realize how many things need to be replaced. Just this month we finally broke down and decided to pick something, just one thing whose time had come and make the move to finally replace it. After careful consideration and much deliberation, we decided to purchase a new bed. Our old bed was the one that Mike owned before we even met; no fancy headboard or anything, just a mattress and plain metal frame. It screamed bachelor, but when we first got married it seemed like a waste of money to buy something new because the thing technically still worked. It was soft, sheets fit on it, and no springs were hanging out. What more could you ask for in a bed, right? It also wasn’t all that old and so we just went with it.

Time passed and the frame started getting squeaky. Every time one of us rolled over, we woke the other person up, but that was kind of ok because the thing had lost so much support that when someone moved even slightly, the other person was almost sent flying out of bed and so the squeaking was a nice little heads up to hang on. Finally we said forget it and got rid of the frame and just left the mattress and box springs on the floor. We had every intention to replace the frame right away, but then stuff would come up and the kids would need shots, or food, or whatever, and we just never got around to it.

Then a few weeks ago I started thinking, “Could we be anymore white trash?” When I realized the answer was “no,” I told Mike that we HAD to get a new bed. I didn’t care what the cost. If it meant selling a kidney on Ebay, I was going to do it. Luckily it didn’t come to that because I found some fantastic deals over the Memorial Day holiday weekend and VIOLA…A brand new mattress AND bed; headboard, footboard, and everything. We’re like real, live grown ups now.

But the bed is just one thing on the list of many, many items that have had their time in the sun. It seems like just about every day I come across something else that is begging to be put down. That is why I feel that every so many years a married couple should be entitled to throw themselves another shower. I just so happen to believe that seven years is the perfect interval to whip up such a shin dig. Think about it, five years doesn’t seem like a tremendously long time to hang in there, and ten years is a real milestone worthy of celebrating. So it seems only logical that every seven years is the way to go.

I think I may be really on to something here. You may consider this your official invitation to our Seven Year Wedding Shower, or Way to Hang in There and Deal with Each Other’s Crap Shower. Err, on second thought, maybe the word “crap” shouldn’t be a word that gets written out in fancy writing on a cake. I think we’ll go with Seven Year Shower, cause we’re classy and stuff.