Love and Marriage...

When I married my husband I had told him I had no problem living in the house he owned. I knew the expense of buying a new house. I also thought the kids had lost their mother, gained a Wicked Step Mother as I was titled shortly after my entry into the family, and probably would hate loosing their home too. At the time I sincerely felt it wasn't going to be a problem for me.

We had three of the children all at home, the three boys. I brought with me the little furniture I owned and it was all placed in the basement for when we found a place for it.

Let me preface this memory with something I can laugh about now. But at the time, well, not so much. My taste at the time was Mission style, clean cut, uncluttered, scarce(okay I will admit looking around today you would never guess this to be the case.) and maybe a little contemporary. Wall paper is not my thing because it is such a pain to change. It is hard to find a paper that doesn't date itself. The scarceness may have had something to do with being a poor college student before hand and not having much furniture to start off with. Cleanliness was something I had gained from living in South America for a year and a half.

Once when I had been visiting my friend she had been trying to decide on a wall paper and asked my opinion. It was a country style with pink and blue flowers on what looked like aged paper. I told her I thought it was horrid(probably a little too opinionated I know, but she asked.) She told me she thought of using it for an accent wall that would probably be it. It was her house, who am I to judge what she puts on her walls right?

So, three years later having married her husband, I walk into the home and realize this wall paper is not only on an accent wall, but all over the living, dinning, and hallway! Dang, she really loved the stuff! I could barely stand it, especially it being the only thing I saw in the main rooms of entertainment. It wasn't me. Her style was more the rustic, romantic, with a bit of country style.

So I would not be able to change that, but maybe I can make a space of my own. When I asked my husband his plans with the unfinished basement, he had it all planned and a space for me was not in those plans. When I brought up the idea of tearing the paper down everyone and the dog had an opinion...basically that opinion was I was trying to erase their mothers memory. Ugh.

I felt as if I lived in a hotel and could only touch the items I had brought in.The problem was I wasn't checking out any time soon and was not allowed to unpack. To top things off I was stuck with that putrid paper. Displaying anything of mine was fought against quite strongly. Changing any thing was a sure sign of my "real" intent, I was only trying to change a memory. It was obvious time was to stand still.

My husband tried to comfort me with "once he finished the basement I could decorate it however I pleased." I did not find comfort in this. One room would be a boys room, he would have an opinion(the strongest of them all). One room would be a family room that had my friends furniture all over it. One room would be an office/game room for the boys, and the final room would be a tool room for the hubby. My furniture would stay tucked in storage, never to see the light of day again(this is how I felt at the time).

One day I finally found a way to express my frustration with my hubby so he could understand where I was coming from. Our conversation went something like the following:

H: You can decorate the basement any way you want.

M: I know, but none of it is mine. It is all yours and my friends.

H: Just picture it as you have purchased someone else's home and now you can make it yours.

M: The difference is I can reject someone else's home, and look at another until I find one I like,
and when I decorate it to my liking, the children won't accuse me of trying to erase the
memory of their mother.

It was then he understood I needed something of my own, that the children and I could create as ours rather than what had been their mothers and it was not being stamped out by this wretch who seems to be trying to be taking over their world.

Once I was able to put this out there to be understood it was no longer something that bothered me. It simply was not an issue for me anymore.

Since this conversation we have moved. It wasn't with in that year but, two years later. However, having been able to have my thoughts expressed and understood helped life in my friends home feel much more bearable for myself.