33 Days

That’s how many days (says TheKnot.com) until I get to join my guy as his legally wedded wife and call myself a Mrs. fo’ life. I’ve been crafting up a storm and so many ideas have been running through my head, but in the end, there are things that matter more than the small details… like how many people we get to bring together, celebrate with, and call family. I’ll still worry about the details, but I try to remind myself to focus on the big things. Like getting the marriage certificate, so this nuptial is legal, and filing for a name change (and having to change it in 2.7 million places). But that’ll be fun and worth it.

So, yes, I’m going to take his last name. No I don’t feel contra-feminist for that. It’s kind of like getting a nickname at camp… and since I never really went to camp (well I went to Bible camp, but I don’t think they gave out nicknames… just bibles) it’s my chance to get a new name.

Other ways I know I’m getting married and it’s not just a piece of paper:

  • A colleague made a powerpoint of a presentation we’re doing in August and put “Lindsay Stoddard” as my name
  • A friend asked when we’re going to have kids. (“Soon” isn’t soon enough for people sometimes! And for us, too, sometimes! But don’t worry, we’ll do what’s right for us.)
  • I talk a lot about the future and use cute sayings like always using “We” and referring to us as “best friends.”
  • Brian said we can’t have kids ’til I learn how to clean up after myself (so I’m gonna fake it and lure him into a false sense of security).
  • I read the book “The Magic Art of Tidying Up” (the pop-novel about a Japanese culture of tidying that ANYone can benefit from) and I will say, Brian is happier when I throw clutter out and plan to create space for more fun things to put in their place… I mean…

So, people are right: a lot will change, but a lot won’t.

  • We won’t wake up the next day and have marriage figured out–we’re going to have to work on it every day. Challenge accepted.
  • We will still live on-campus in our very adult apartment in the “dorm” I oversee.
  • We will still bicker over the messes I make and how I “literally don’t see” clutter.
  • We will still like and watch different shows, one of us on the phone with earbuds and one of us on the TV.
  • I will always be too cold in the bedroom and in the car and he will always die of heat in our apartment and mess with the car temperature controls
  • I probably won’t stop using the emergency brake when I park, despite never having lived in a hilly place.
  • He will still call it a documentary a “docu-men-TAREy” when it’s totally a “docu-mentaree.”
  • We will also have to continue to make decisions that benefit us and our future. We’ve always been pretty good on this one.

I’ll have to keep working on not taking my mistakes so seriously (because I’m not that fun to be around when that happens). He’ll have to continue to deal with car/electronic/cooking-related items and I will continue to make the bed, avoid using dishes so I can blame the dirty ones on him, and surprise him by separating whites and colors whenever I do the laundry.

The fun part about us is, he likes the home-y things (my weakness) I purchase for our apartment and I actually have grown used to watching sports and paying ludicrous amounts for MLS games and beers at the stadium, which is his weakness. We share in each other’s triumphs and support each other through our mishaps.

I can’t wait to say “I Do” to a life of challenge, a life of support, a life of adventure, and a life of love with this guy.

I guess this is the part of my blog where I am no longer truly my namesake, “Girl in Like,” but rather, “Girl in Love…” and while I didn’t believe it would happen to me at some points, somewhere deep down I knew it had to… and when I met him almost 3 years ago, he was doomed from the beginning, because I wasn’t letting go.

I’ll post again soon about what it’s actually been like to try and plan a wedding “on-a-budget” — that is a whole other topic that deserves some room.

Miles of smiles,

Girl in Love

p.s. Yes, I’m 12 years old and have already practiced signing my signature with his last name:

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