My decades-long wedding anniversary is coming up. I'm excited, kind of like I used to get excited when watching out my window for Santa Claus' arrival on Christmas Eve. For some reason, this one's kind of different. I'm proud of my successful marriage. More proud than I ever thought I'd be! I've been smiling about this for several weeks. I grew up in the 1980's and it seems like everyone got divorced, had messy lives, and messed up kids. I haven't done that and I'm proud of that. How . . . you might ask . . .
Well, I could give all the usual platitudes such as work together, don't go to bed angry, and be supportive. Sure . . . these are all true. I guess we do these things . . . some of them (not the "don't go to bed angry" . . . we certainly go to bed angry because we have exhausting jobs). But the real reason we've survived is twofold . . . one, we've never (or rarely) considered any other option and two, we just work together. My husband and I have the same interests, we absolutely love talking with one another, and we spend a lot of time together . . . probably too much, sometimes.
I love him. "Well . . . you're supposed to" you might comment. Sure . . . but I've seen many people who don't seem to have the same passion for each other after all these years. We do. Always. Even in the middle of the angriest tear-filled disagreements, I love him. In these moments, I want to protect him . . . from my anger. The simplest things make me feel loved. Emails in the middle of the day, even ones that simply say "hi, hope you're having a good day, love you" still make me smile as much as pretty cards did back when we first met. I passionately support my husband every chance I get . . . and I love doing so . . . even when it means that I'm seen more as my husband's wife instead of a good music teacher in my own right . . . yes, we both teach music and he's better at this than I although I'm probably the better relationship person. He's like any guy who sometimes forgets his wedding anniversary, never sends me flowers, and leaves the lid up in the middle of the night . . . but he also does little things for me that have big meanings. How many guys out there are comfortable washing their spouse's underwear, bras, and stockings . . . "too much information" you're screaming right now. Okay, I get that one. How many guys are willing to interrupt an afternoon nap to talk to their wife when she's getting drowsy during her long drive home? How many guys cook dinner for their wife EVERY night . . . Yes, he does this and is an amazing cook! I probably carry around 10-15 extra pounds that are dedicated to my husband's cooking.
Yes, we fight and argue and disagree and sometimes throw things or hit things. You have no idea . . . between our respective job stress (being a music teacher is one of the most stressful jobs in education today, I believe that) and my penchant for picking a PMS infused monthly fight, we get into it. Oh do we ever! We're both stubborn and we believe, at all costs, that we're right and the other is not. We've learned how to get under each other's skin . . . and unfortunately, we don't hesitate to do so. We could probably be actors in one of those classic spousal movie scenes . . . the ones where they throw things at each other . . . you know what I mean. Yes, we also get annoyed at each other by little things in life. His snoring keeps me up at night (he does nothing about it! grrr . . . ) and he surely goes nuts with my penchant for living off of piles of clothes on our bedroom floor. He refuses to send me roses on Valentines Day because of the excessive cost . . . I get annoyed when he wants to buy himself big priced toys (golf clubs, iPhone, touch iPod . . . other gadgets over the years). But, we work. We do. I'm not sure why. Make up you-know-what, maybe . . . or maybe our stubborn commitment to our own side of an argument fuels our passion for each other . . . who knows . . . it just works.
Let's face it, we didn't do anything right when we first met. We didn't become friends, and then date, and then spend an engagement working out the correct formula for our lives. We didn't go through counseling before our quick wedding . . . you know, those sessions that teach you how to deal with the trials of marriage. Instead, we were star-crossed the first time we met and became soul mates on the very next date. My poor husband ran up much credit debt trying to convince me that he loved me . . . he didn't have to, it was mutual. I won't bore you with some of these other details . . . especially with a certain Christmas party and my cute borrowed mini-skirt and tights . . . We did, however, get married shortly after we met. You would be shocked if you knew how short a time we dated. We stressed out over financial issues and didn't plan our children. And we've lasted many years . . . without question. Amazing! We didn't do ANYTHING the proverbial right and yet . . . Our "we" is so right.
There's another ingredient in this formula . . . our kids. We both grew up with divorced parents and neither of us wanted our kids to go through the same. It's why we just don't consider any other relationship option. But there's more to it than this . . . kids are like glue. They make us stick together. We are the proverbial proud parents when we attend our kids' concerts, conferences, and sporting events. We desperately miss our kids when we have to go places without them. We disagree about our kids and worry about our kids . . . together. They complete our relationship circle and I'm grateful for every fleeting minute I spend as a parent.
Amazing . . . I'm still smiling about this achievement and will be for some time . . . Happy anniversary to me! Happy anniversary to us!
