Train Wreck of Thought

After five years of marriage, my husband is quite used to my blurting out a statement that seems to have no relation to the conversation we were just having. A typical train of thought for me goes something like this: My husband says to me, “Tonight’s lasagna was delicious.” I recall that my mom often made lasagna from that same recipe for church potluck dinners. Every summer, our church would host a food booth at the local Independence Day Celebration. One year, the entertainment included a troupe of belly dancers, one of whom had been my high school math teacher. Over the course of the three years I had her, she divorced and reverted to her maiden name then married again, so she had a different last name each year I was in her class. Two of those names were somewhat unusual and the third was very simple. This thought caused me to blurt out, “Sweetheart, if you die before me and I remarry, it will be to someone with a very common last name.”

If you cut out the thought process in between and simply juxtapose his comment about the lasagna and my comment about him dying, it could be a rather alarming conversation. Fortunately, he knows me well enough to extrapolate the chain of events going on in my head. (Or at least to trust that there is one that does not include the administration of poison.)

Unfortunately, my son has apparently inherited my tendency for the non sequitur. And since he is only 3-1/2, he rarely explains the chain of thought which led him from Point A to Point B. Also since he is only 3-1/2, the leaps in logic within that chain often defy adult understanding – or at least prove an interesting challenge to recreate.

Here is a prime example of his thoughts with less than obvious connections: The other day, he asked me why Daddy and I don’t get married every day. After all, we kiss all the time. I explained that you only have to get married once, usually with a special ceremony and fancy clothes, but then you stay married and you don’t have to do it over and over. I showed him our wedding album and reminded him that the family photo at the top of our stairs was from our wedding day. He was very quiet and looked thoughtfully at all the photos for a few minutes, then asked, “Okay, but Mommy, why aren’t there dinosaurs anymore?”

Comments like that make me wonder what goes on in that funny little head of his. I imagine that the chain of thought went something like this: Mommy and Daddy got married before I was born. Mommy says that she used to be a little girl a long time before I was born. When she was a little girl, she liked to play with dolls, just like Tiny from Dinosaur Train does. I would like to play with Tiny from Dinosaur Train, except that there aren’t dinosaurs any more. “Hey, Mommy, why aren’t there dinosaurs anymore?” It’s actually quite reasonable logic.  

But sometimes I just can’t get into his head deep enough to understand the connections he’s making. Connections between comments like, “The water in our pool is really warm,” and “Once my toenail turned a funny color and fell off.” Or “Daddy bought me a shovel at Home Depot,” and “Germs get into your lungs if you don’t eat enough healthy food.” Or “When I grow up, I’ll be big like Daddy,” and “How many oranges fit in your shoes?”

Although when it comes to statements like that last one, I think it’s probably better not to try to figure it out. Some of the mysteries of life are better left as mysteries.

Marry Me a Little

As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, this weekend my husband and I attended a wedding. We have attended a number of weddings together, two of them within six months of our own. And of course, going to a wedding within a matter of months of your own is very romantic, because you are constantly reminded of your own special day. But, as I discovered this weekend, it is equally romantic going to a wedding four and a half years later.

This particular wedding was especially lovely. The bride had three grown children and the groom had two, and the toasts given by the children had the entire audience in tears. The daughters of the bride and the groom were the bridesmaids, the groom’s son was his best man, and the bride’s two sons escorted her down the aisle. Readings were by the bride’s brother and the groom’s sister. And the JP who officiated had obviously spent time getting to know the couple, as her remarks were both appropriate and personal.

But what made it most meaningful to me was how her remarks applied to all the married couples listening. At one point, she invited the bride and groom to join hands as she talked about the reasons they gave that they loved each other, and without hesitation, my husband took my hand in his, and we each thought about everything we love about each other. Without speaking a single word, we knew we were both thinking back to our own wedding day and the vows we made to each other. While we were driving up to the wedding the night before, my husband had remarked that he hoped their wedding ceremony would include an invitation to the married couples attending to renew their vows to each other, and although that invite was not explicitly given, we both saw that moment as a chance to privately renew our vows.

Just this morning, I stumbled across an online discussion of vow renewal ceremonies. Opinions were very much mixed, although I was surprised at how many posters thought they were ridiculous because “vows don’t expire.” And that is a perfectly reasonable opinion. But my personal experience is that, after several years and several children, vows tend to fade into the background. The business of daily life, like earning a living and raising children, takes most of our time and energy and we sometimes forget to turn the focus onto our own relationship as husband and wife. So a little reminder every now and then of the promises we made on that day when we were completely focused on each other serves to bring a little perspective.

And it never hurts to remind yourself of everything you love about your spouse. For example, I love that my husband does things around the house without thinking twice. I love that he doesn’t make fun of my total lack of directional ability. I love that he knows my exact level of frustration when his stepping in to lend me a hand is helpful and not annoying. I love how much he loves spending time with his children. I love how smart and knowledgeable he is in so many widely varied areas. I love how hard he works, and yet how he is able to balance work and family. I love how dedicated he is to his college fraternity. I love that he always looks neat and well put together, whether he’s wearing his jogging gear or a tuxedo. I love his beautiful singing voice. I love how beautifully he plays the piano. I love how comfortable he is at a party or in a group of strangers. I love his laugh. I love his mad bartending skills. I love how protective he is of me. I love the way he loves his family. I love the way he loves me.

And I’d marry him all over again. After all, I imagine I’m marrying him again at every wedding we go to.

 

June 24 Photo: On Your Mind

Today’s photo is another slight cheat, but again, for a very good reason: Today would have been my parents’ 50^th wedding anniversary. Obviously, I wasn’t there at their wedding, so I didn’t take any photos. But that is definitely what is in the forefront of my mind today.

This is absolutely my favorite photo from my parents’ wedding album. Both my folks are so obviously glowing with excitement and happiness. And they are truly surrounded by family and friends. Unfortunately, the only groomsman I can identify is my mother’s brother, my Uncle John (the one wearing glasses). The women are, from left to right, my mother’s sister Elaine (who was only 16 at the time), my mother’s college roommate Myrna (the matron of honor), and my dad’s cousin Carolee (who, I believe, borrowed my mother’s wedding gown for her own wedding not long after).

I love the men’s white dinner jackets, the women’s perky little hats, the beautifully draping flowers, and my mom’s lace gauntlets and voluminous ball gown. I love her beaded pearl headpiece that I would wear (upside down and backwards) at my own wedding, nearly 45 years later. I love the familiarity of the backdrop, the room being the Ladies’ Parlor of the church I grew up in, with the same mirror, the same wing chair, and quite possibly the same curtains that were there during my childhood.

I love seeing them when they didn’t know what life had in store for them. When this picture was taken, they had no idea that they would have two daughters, or two grandchildren. They didn’t know that they would buy a house and live in it for their whole entire lives. They didn’t know that my dad would work for the same company for over 40 years, or that my mom would be a teacher, then a stay at home mom, then a children’s librarian. They didn’t know that their funerals would be held at the same church that they were married in, the same church that their children were raised in. They didn’t know that my mom’s dad would live with us for a year while suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, or that my dad would eventually need hospice care in our home, or that my mom would live in a hospice facility in the next town.

But they knew that they loved each other, and they knew that they could handle whatever life threw at them, with help from each other and from God.

I may not live long enough to be married for 50 years, either, but I know that with help from my husband and my God, I can handle anything that life may throw at me during whatever part of that 50 years I may have left. And that’s what’s on my mind today.

The Perfect Wedding

Four years ago today, I married my Prince Charming in the perfect wedding. Well, MY perfect wedding, anyway. Looking back, I still wouldn’t change a thing. Because these are the things I remember most from my wedding day:

Waking up in my mom’s living room, where I’d slept on the floor on a camp mattress shared with my mom, in a house full of relatives who were nearly as excited as I was.

Getting ready at the church, with my matron of honor and my mom. Watching myself in the mirror as my mom pinned her headpiece in my hair and laughing as my matron of honor got all teary and then tucked an emergency Kleenex in her budge.

Hearing the beautiful music of a brass quintet wafting through the church.

The look on my husband-to-be’s face as the doors at the back of the church opened and he saw me in my wedding dress for the first time.

Holding his hand as I slipped the ring on his finger. Well, slipped the ring partway onto his finger, at which point it got stuck and he had to help me. (Nice symbolism of the years to come.)

Practicing our first dance in the gazebo behind the reception hall.

Racing onto the dance floor for our first dance when the music started a bit early. Dancing the traditional waltz clog with my new family. Watching my husband do the Superman dance with all the teenagers.

Being serenaded by my new brother-in-law and then a barbershop quartet. Sitting back-to-back with my husband playing the “who” game, courtesy of my sister-in-law.

Making the rounds of all our friends and family, chatting and accepting all their congratulations.

Falling asleep on my husband’s shoulder on the plane on the way to our honeymoon.

But most of all, I remember smiling. A lot. And laughing. A lot. And being so happy, not only that I would be spending my life with this wonderful man, but that all our family and friends were so genuinely happy for us. It was a day full of laughter and joy and family and friends, which is exactly what a wedding day should be.

Happy anniversary to my dearest friend and my dearest love. Here’s to four more, forty more, four hundred more! I love you.