In Good Times and in Bad
So, here’s the thing. Marriage sucks sometimes. But I made these vows to overlook that:
I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.
Sounds simple enough in theory, and maybe even in practice…until those good times and bad are on a continuous loop. Let me offer an example to better illustrate this paradox.
Last Saturday was one for the books. My husband got up early and took the baby downstairs so I could sleep. That in itself was enough to inspire romanticism. But I woke up an hour later to breakfast in bed, tray and all, and his very first attempt at pancakes (how this man had never before made a pancake is beyond me). I was smitten. The morning was lazily spent as a little family in our little bedroom, until we decided that maybe we should carpe diem and get out of the house. Then ensued a very loud whisper-discussion while the baby napped in the backseat, one return trip for a forgotten item that was in the car the whole damn time, and then strained silence for the remainder of the ride. This was all followed by a fun-filled afternoon and pajama party in the kitchen while I made dinner. See? Paradox.
Now, this probably seems like a trivial example (and it totally is in comparison to the legitimate hardships that we’ve faced in our 15 months of marriage), but it struck me as so quintessentially human. Our feelings fluctuate along with our expectations of one another, oftentimes expectations that we never even express out loud (because my husband is supposed to be a mind reader). We give in to petty arguments and start to see each other as competitors rather than the person you can always count on. Everybody wants to be right, but marriage doesn’t allow for that kind of pride. Marriage doesn’t care who started it, it only demands that you kiss and make up. These good and bad times (the really bad ones) can happen in a single day, sometimes for days on end, and we’ve promised to deal with them together. In essence, we’ve promised not to let lesser things ruin a perfectly happy moment — pancakes made by the one you love, per se.
Fast-forward to last night when I turned our ice cream date into an anxiety meltdown, and the cycle repeats itself. Remember how I said that my husband is supposed to be a mind reader? Well, he’s not. Not even close. I expect him to fulfill my deepest desires — the ones that I don’t tell him, mind you — when he expects me to just tell him exactly what I need. We’re different in that way, I an introvert who doesn’t like to communicate any type of weakness and he someone who operates best with clear instructions. We both put up with the worst possible versions of each other. And we love the other in spite of it. We live our vows to the best of our ability and take comfort in the fact that there is no backing out. We’re all in.
This morning, when my husband brought me breakfast in bed for the second time this week while my mom took the baby so I could sleep in yet again, I thought about those vows. How they temper the climate of our marriage and make us better people (and parents) because of their timelessness. He can’t return me when I’m broken. I can’t trade him in for cash. I’ll keep choosing him, and he’ll keep choosing me. For all the days of my life.
