My husband and I are complete opposites who have come to a comfortable compromise. My man grew up in suburbia, loves the city, and thrives on nightlife, meanwhile I grew up rural, feeding the neighbors cows fresh cut grass from my mother’s yard, and going to bed by 8pm. We met, we fell in love and we battled over our two personalities. We finally found common ground, as my husband is a chef and I loved local food and had a respect for farmers. Together we started to adventure to farmers markets, cheese factories and local gems that neither had known existed. We merged our families (my husband and his french bulldog, and myself and my weimaraner) into a townhouse in Nepean where we lived together, along with various roommates over many years. The townhouse itself will have it’s own blog post, which I’ll save for another day, but it has certainly served its purpose up to this point.
Hubby and I, after being married for almost 1 year to the day, found out we were expecting (we had only started trying and we thought it would take months), so we sat dumbfounded on the edge of our bed happily thinking “the fire… she be lit”. We had always planned on moving out of our tiny block of a house and we were saving, slowly, but nothing prepares you like that pee stick in hand, the countdown had begun.