Cinderella's Marriage: Wedded Bliss or Blisters?

My husband and I celebrated a dozen years of marriage today,

 >HURRAY!<

Thank you very much;

but before I get to that, I have a question that's been on my mind all day:

  What happened to Cinderella and the Prince?

Do you ever wonder what "Happily Ever After" means?

  How soon after the wedding do you think the girl of Cinders started picking up and cleaning and slipping down to the kitchen to check out the situation down there?  What was her first "disagreement" with the prince about?

  Did he say,

"It is not proper for the wife of the prince to do the tasks you are used to doing," 

 or did she toss a dirty sock at his head and say,

"Don't make somebody else have to pick these things up!  What's wrong with you royalty?"

  I read a book as a girl called Dora Thorne.  It was a story based on a rich man during the Victorian era that married the care-takers daughter; it shed new light on "happily ever after" to me and made me see marriage differently.  Dora misunderstands a situation and lets her emotions run away with her; she accuses her husband wrongfully in front of people.  This eventually causes them to separate and their daughter then suffers the consequences.  It was a great book, and although I can't remember all the details now, I know it changed things in my fairy-tale ideals.  If you ever to happen on this book, grab it.  It's a great read!

  Marriage is made of wedded bliss with wedded blisters. 

Marriage is work. 

Both of the houses we bought needed a lot of work.

Lots of blisters.

My farmer works a full-time job that is an hour drive away.  When he gets home, he has the farm work to do.

There's always something to do around here.

Of course, I have plenty to keep me busy as well:

 feeding the kids, cleaning, home-schooling, feeding the kids, 

 

 mulching and weeding and adding more and more flower beds because they are beautiful and needed.

Needed.

  Yes, they are needed.

I sell plants and the beautiful gardens help my plants to sell, so they are needed;

 at least,

that's what I tell my Farmer,

and he is kind.

Where was I...

Oh, yes,

gardening and canning,

 cooking, feeding the kids and the man, oh, and feeding the animals sometimes, too, and laundry.

Laundry.

And more laundry.

Don't worry; I didn't take any pictures of that.

  I didn't want to risk an avalanche.

(This will have to do.)

But aside from the mundane that we all have to do, there are other "blisters" in marriage.

The daily annoyances that make us grit our teeth.

 The blisters of this sort offer us 2 responses:

1. we can let them be blisters,

or 

2. we can make them our bliss in disguise.

They are learning experiences,

growing pains,

temporary issues:

the stitches Levi got from the rock that landed above his eyebrow.

Violet said he threw it in the air, and it came back to hit him;

but a year and a half later she admitted that she threw it at him.

Poor little man.

Violet's kitten grew up too quickly and I didn't get her taken care of soon enough.

The Farmer was not impressed when the tiny momma gave birth to 7 babies.

SEVEN!

Violet was in bliss!

But they are great barn cats now,

and they saw the vet so there will be

no more kittens.

Sorry, Levi.

The little tedium of the day that can annoy;

who doesn't like neat and clean and order?

Toys!

  Everywhere!

  They hurt when you step on them in the dark.

Books!

  Everywhere!

  They SLIDE when you step on them in the dark.

And produce...

EVERYWHERE!

Keeps me up working late

in the dark.

Kids...

when you step through the door after a long day at work

and out in the fields...

they still want love and attention:

it's a matter of bliss or blisters.

I think in marriage, the bliss and blisters is what builds the marriage into a thing of beauty,

but the bliss HAS to be there.

Yes, everywhere,

not just in those obvious places,

but everywhere.

My farmer and I have matters of bliss and blisters that are so closely connected.

I'm sure you have them, too.

Let me explain:

Pretty nearly every night at supper, because of where I sit, I have to ask my Farmer to plop some food on my plate for me, or refill my cup with the pitcher near him.

I can tell you that every time

EVERY TIME,

he puts 1 Tbs. of liquid into my cup,

or 2 peas on my plate,

and says,

"There ya go."

It's funny.

Well, it was funny, the first 15 times.  I might even give him the first 20.

But about the 5,000 time, it's not funny anymore.

  Nope.

The thing is, though, the fact that it's not really funny anymore doesn't matter.

I know what he wants.

 My farmer wants me to look at him.  Because I always do.  

"Very funny; now give me some more."

Invariably, he adds one more pea.

Now my response to this when I've had a long day and dealt with 2 times of spilled milk, a half hour explaining subtraction to my oldest and still not understanding how to subtract, a teething baby, a dog that got an upset stomach, wet clothes from the pond 3 times,

and finding that somebody ate the last oreo...

well, let's just say a growl is about the best I can do.

But I feel badly later.  Because I know that what he really wanted when he gave me 2 peas and then 1 more was for us to meet at the dinner table for a smile,

that teasing look,

a moment of bliss

amongst the peas and the kids and the baby dropping her food on the floor.

I chose whether I will accept that moment of bliss

or make it a blister.

The same goes for him when I slurp my watermelon,

or soup,

or drink,

or whatever I can find that is slurpable that night.

Would you like some bliss or blister tonight, Mr. Farmer?

This is the card my Farmer gave me today for our anniversary.

He always finds the perfect card to make me smile.

It was a moment of bliss.

Linking up to:
Kellys Korner Blog: Marriage Advice