A Teen Age Marriage

Us at Stonehenge

After this post I will go back to being 25 years old indefinitely. But for my purposes here today, I’ll confess that I got married on my birthday 13 years ago. Next year Husband and I will have been together 20 years – although not married for that long. I’ve observed that we’ve been married longer than many friends who also married about the same time we did. I think after 13 years, we’re no longer beginners or amateurs at this “marriage” thing.




Us at my prom. 



I don’t think I really believe in “soul mates” or in “happily ever after.” I never have. Honestly I think that’s been beneficial for real marriage not a fairy tale one that ends in “happily ever after.” Marriage is about digging in, getting your hands dirty and making a life with someone. No fairy tales here.

I like to think about that girl who married David on December 19, 1997. I don’t think she exists anymore. She was young, naïve, young, skinny, young and scared. For years if some said, “Mrs. Cadle” I would look around for my mother in law. Now I know they’re talking to me. I’ll also answer to “Bruce’s Mom.”





 If I could talk to her there are a few nuggets, tidbits, if you will, that I would share. Not that I would want to talk her out of getting married. I wonder if I were to tell her some of the experiences she’d have if she’d believe me. I’m betting probably not.

Me receiving diamond earring for a
big anniversary of my 25th birthday

Many told me before I got married that I would have moments of “What the hell have I done?” I never had that. I did, however, have moments of, “Who the hell are you?”

I moved from my parent’s house to an apartment with David. Don’t get me wrong, I was totally ready for the move. I don’t recall when the dwelling that housed David and all our belongings felt like and truly became “home” for me. But it wasn’t instantaneous.



Our honeymoon.  We're in St. Thomas.
 See, I do look good in hats

 I thought that after I got married that I would never put gas in my car again. My husband would fill it up for me every time. Well first week of marriage, the car is on “E” so I filled it up. There’s one fantasy down the drain.

I made David swear that he’d take me out of Russellville, Arkansas. He certainly fulfilled that promise. In retrospect, I should have been a touch more specific about that one….

If IF I did his laundry, I was never going to put his clothes away. I’m not the laundress was my mantra. Week one of marriage I washed his clothes and put them on the bed. He promptly put them on the floor. From the bed to the floor they went for more than a week until he started picking out his clothes from the floor and not the drawer or closet. So… I put them up and continue to do so still today.



Me with new baby Bruce. 
If I look like I'm scared $#itless, you'd be right!

 Never go to bed angry. WHATEVER!!!! In all seriousness I’ve found that most times cooler heads prevail the next morning after an argument. There are however, those rare occasions when a night of sleep only ignites an argument further. I’ve been up all night more that once enumerating all the ways that I am right and he is not only wrong but a damn fool.

Me with new baby Reed.
 I'm totally faking a smile.

I acknowledge that sometimes I’m not the easiest person in the world to live with. I spend a fair amount of time trying to stave off a surrounding blackness that comes with loneliness and depression. But he can be no walk in the park either. I’ll contend that more often than not, we’re a good team. We come together and build each other up more often than not.

Here’s to 13 more years! (at least!!!)