Skip to main content

7/60 Marriage Advice: Give Them Time

My friend told me this lovely bit of marriage advice (which I will probably slaughter . . . creative license is needed here), which I passed on to Phoebe when we were talking about how her darling boyfriend is finally catching on to the hints she's been dropping about what a real date is and how he should treat her (he does treat her very very well . . . she's just fine tuning it):

My friend's friend's (yes, one of THOSE stories), sat her daughter down before her wedding and said, "Look at your father.  He's pretty much perfect isn't he?  He takes such good care of us.  He mows the lawn, he takes out the trash, he buys us what we want, and is there for us when ever we need him."

The daughter nodded her head and said, "Yes, Dad is pretty amazing."

The mother said, "Yes, he is.  That took 25 years of training.  Don't expect your husband to be like your father over night.  Give him time.  He'll get there."

When I heard this I both laughed and cried.  I think of us, newly married, and me getting so frustrated at John for not being my dad.  And to give John credit, my father is like a super father and human.  He can fix everything and is fiercely protective of his daughters.  He totally and utterly spoiled us girls and fixed literally everything that was broken . . . hairdryers, cars, and hearts.  He had 35 years of training before I married John. I so wish someone had given me that advice so I wasn't so quick to judge John not being what I thought a husband should be.  Bless his heart for sticking with cranky old me.

But 23 years later . . . he's pretty much perfect.  I love this human with my whole heart.  But him becoming a pretty amazing husband (he buys me peanut butter and black licorice just like I love) and literally the best father any child in this world could dream of having (he melts my heart with his tenderness to our babies and yet at the same time laying down good ground rules that will help them get through tough times in their lives) . . . it did take a few many years of training.

So all you newly weds, be patient.  It will take a minute or weeks or months or sometimes years.  But they'll get there.  And when they do . . . you'll be so glad you stuck it out.

(Phoebe, by the way, when I gave her this advice, laughed her head off.  And then, about forty-five minutes later said, "Mom, I think you're right.  It's silly to expect them to know anything about being a boyfriend if they've never been one--or husband or father or whatever.  We all need a little time to learn don't know."  Oh, yes we do.  Let's hope she's patient and remembers this . . . I have a good feeling she will.)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Forced Frugality

  We are going on ten months of looking for a job.   Last September, after a rather horrid ten months, John got the boot.  It was oddly and rather unfairly done, but a great relief to all of us.  Working at that company had become a puzzle that grew harder and harder each day until it was in fact, impossible.  The stress of it took a wild toll on John's mental and physical health.  By the end, he was neither eating nor sleeping.  He had strange episodes of racing heart and an inability to tell what was real and what was imagined.  I sat him down and told him I would use up every penny of our retirement and sell the house if it meant he could stop working in that environment.  And it may take all that.  And I still won't regret it.   When I feel rather sorry for myself, I remember what life was like for him a year ago and then I don't feel sad that I am once again digging through my closet to find a new way to wear old things.   In fact, there is part of me (small though it

The Best Kind of Tired

  My often daily life . . . (John is two feet away—I can’t do all of them by myself) Last week, every single time I sat down, I almost instantly fell asleep.  I kept telling John, I have the sleeping disease.  What is going on?  Am I getting old?  Is it the covid after effects?  What on earth? He didn’t have any answers for me because he was doing the same thing.   We didn’t really do anything for seven days straights.   And our kids joined us in the sleepy, do nothing, lazy slug bug state. It wasn’t until this morning as I was looking over the pictures of the summer that I realized why. . . We literally haven’t stopped ALL summer long—one awesome amazing trip/visit/fun after the other.  It’s like we are making up for last years “staycations.”  Holy hannah have we ever made up for it.  Just about did ourselves in playing and hugging and kissing and caring for babies. Highlights of the summer (in no particular order): Cousin sleepovers have resumed (most missed activity since the pandem

Midlife-Cri-sis

It's been a year.   I'll sum it up by saying that food no longer tastes good to me.   The last time that happened, I had lost three pregnancies in a row and John had lost and found a job and we had moved three times. The feeling is very similar.   There have a been a lot of losses or near losses.  Enough that when the phone pings with a text or vibrates with a call (I long ago turned off the ringer), I take a deep breath and think, you can do this .  More times than not, I need that deep breath. I am probably in the second half of my life and I feel it.  47.  My children are nearly grown.  My house is established.  Our bank accounts don't fluctuate like they used to. I don't go to the store and dream of being able to buy things.  I walk into my closet and wonder what I can do without.   I feel the finality of my existence and I wonder . . . what do I really want out of all this?   For book club, we read A Million Miles in a Thousand Years .  It's about re-writing o