Verified by 
Just over ten years ago, my then fiancé and I sat on the purple, velour slip-covered couch of our minister for premarital counseling. Since Father Allen was also my grandparents' minister, I had seen him lead many people through the years. We loved and respected him. He was warm and wise with two children of his own. I believed everything he had to say about marriage, family, communication, and love until he said, "No matter who you are, all marriages take work." Except that. Dave and I were different. We were so happy. So in love. Marriage wouldn't be work!
Plus: Dave and I had driven cross-country together already. I mean, c'mon. We'd slept in tents and driven for thousands of miles without trying to leave each other on the side of the road. We were invincible. When friends heard about our trip, they always said, "Wow, if you can do that, you can do anything!" Yes, we had eaten yogurt with the opposite ends of our toothbrushes when we had no silverware. Clearly, we could face adversity.
Ah, the naiveté. So, we weren't quite sure what exactly lay ahead, but ten years ago today, I married my best friend in a tiny chapel by the sea, and together we've learned how to make a marriage work. We've also faced true adversities while still having fun along the way. Here's some of what I've learned along the way:
- I am not always right. In fact, I am oftentimes wrong. If I'm totally honest, I'm probably usually wrong. Geez. What a humbling lesson to learn. Over the years, I've been wrong about many things- some small, some big. Painting our bedroom lime green did not make it feel like the Caribbean. Buying a giant ottoman did not make a good footrest–it simply took up the whole living room. Telling Dave he had a planter's wart when he had a broken foot was a very big mistake.
- The little things matter a lot. Who knew how happy a cup of coffee could make someone? Dave makes me coffee and brings home my favorite type of wine. I make him coffee and love picking out beer I think he'll like. At night, he moves my car when I've sunken into the recesses of the couch. He makes me CD's of '90's hip-hop. I try to sneak something funny into his suitcase when he travels, so he'll smile when he unpacks a stuffed Angry Bird toy. And while he's away, I often find a note on my pillow when I go to bed.
- If you can laugh at each other and at yourselves, life is good. Nothing makes me giggle more than Dave stumbling around trying to wake up. Nothing makes him laugh harder than me trying to sing loudly with confidence when I am the worst singer ever. A funny text or voice mail from one another can change the mood of a bad day.
- It's best to embrace the war scars. When Dave and I met, I mocked him for using moisturizer. I jokingly called him high-maintenance. Well, look at us now. We have mouth guards to prevent teeth grinding and a noise machine to block out traffic (and kids). Dave has a boot he has to wear on his broken foot. Because of a herniated disc, I've had to ditch the flip-flops for sneakers. We've got ice packs for backs and ice packs for heads. We've got hot packs for when those don't work. We can resist aging and we can feel self-conscious, or we can laugh and accept it.
- Sometimes it's better to write than speak. If I have something important to bring up (say, for instance, I want to start publishing essays about our relationship), I occasionally sit down and write Dave an email. I have time to think about what I'm really trying to say. He has time to read it and stop making a stunned face by the time he sees me. I therefore don't react to his stunned face, which I would perceive as negative; he doesn't react to my reaction. By the time we talk, we've both had time to really think about what we mean and what we want to say instead of getting caught up in the emotion of the moment.
- Radical acceptance is a wonderful thing. Over the years, we have (pretty much) stopped trying to change each other and come to accept each other's foibles. I go to bed early. He goes to bed late. He knows I'll panic if I have connecting flights, so we try to fly direct. I like John Denver. He does not like cheese except on pizza. He does like Rage Against the Machine. I buy way too many sets of flip-flops and pillows. These quirks are all things we tried to convince each other to like or do over the years until we realized that these are parts of who we are...little nuances that can't be changed. And you know what? I'll take it. Luckily, he has decided he'll take it, too.
- Marriage is work–but work pays off. Being married with kids is not a cross-country trip in a convertible. Dave spends his days commuting, meeting, negotiating, and traveling. I spend mine schlepping, feeding, packing, and entertaining our kids. We are very lucky, but like any family, the kids are often whining and fighting through dinnertime and bedtime. By the time they've gotten into their beds for the last time, we're both exhausted. It's hard to stay awake, never mind talk to one another, but somehow we make the effort. We don't always stay up philosophizing or discussing our favorite bands (actually, never), but we listen to each other debrief on whatever's on our minds. I then fall into a deep, snoring secure slumber knowing that he is up eating Wheat Thins while watching Comedy Central and doing work.
- One date night's worth a thousand nights at home. Ahhhh, to shed the role of mom and dad, to free ourselves of the world of mac 'n' cheese and chicken nuggets, and to miss the bedtime shenanigans is nothing short of glorious. When Dave and I manage to get out of the house and to a restaurant, I immediately feel reconnected. I feel like me–the old me before I had kids. And I look at him, not as a dad but, as my date. And my date is cute and fun and funny.
- Balance is good. Dave has always been the steadfast one, the realistic one with perseverance. He married me---passionate to a fault and often neurotic. Thank goodness for balance. He talks me down when I'm wound up, understands that I'm always going to cry about the good and the bad, and knows that I'm the biggest bleeding heart around. He has helped me to be calmer and more at peace with myself. I like to think I've helped him become more expressive, but who knows? I think I'm getting the better deal.
- "We're gonna have each other's backs when it's all done" (from "Angel" by Shaggy). Dave and I danced to Shaggy's "Angel" for our wedding song. The song is fun and great to dance to, but it also has these words:
Life is one big party when you're still young
But who's gonna have your back when it's all done
It's all good when you're little, you have pure fun
Can't be a fool, son, what about the long run
When we encountered true adversities: bed rest, preterm labor, post-partum surgeries, grandparents' deaths, parents' illnesses, childrens' illnesses and operations, we were there for each other. I couldn't ask for a better guy to have my back. I hope he knows I have his, too.
