My mother is one of those people lucky enough to be living a real-life love story. I am not being dramatic in the slightest when I say this. Anyone who has spent even a small amount of time with my parents as a couple knows that it’s true. I’ve learned a lot about relationships and marriage from my parents. People have often told me that my parent’s relationship is not the norm. I can’t really speak to that. I can say however, that I’ve decided that my mom’s fairytale marriage is probably about 10 percent Disney magic and 90 per cent hard work, mutual effort and commitment. If you hadn’t guessed from the last post, that slightly rebellious young man was my dad, Sandy. Let’s keep in mind that Mom was only 15 years old which means that as it stands today, my mom has spent more of her life together with my dad than she has apart from him. However, I also want to be clear before I continue that my mother is not simply the sum of her beautiful marriage but that it is a large part of her life and one of the greatest gifts she has given me as a mother. It’s the most natural way to continue this story.
The “magic” part began on January 22, 1977. My parents agree wholeheartedly that this day marked their first date together. However, they also wholeheartedly disagree on what they did. My dad says that they went to a party at his friend’s house. My mom always counters that her parents would never have allowed her to go to a party. She remembers that they went to a movie. This is always a fun conversation to listen to. Sometimes I think that surely one of them knows that the other is right but keeps up the premise just because it’s entertaining. Regardless of what they did their first date it was a success because it was the first of many. My mom once told me that they hadn’t been dating long when she told her mother that she thought he was “the one”. My grandma was skeptical of course - though it didn’t take long for her to accept Sandy as a permanent fixture. My mom has also said that she probably would have married him as a teenager if her parents hadn’t strongly preferred a longer courting period. There were other rules that they were held to while dating.
Curfew. If my dad brought my mom home late she would find all the doors to the house locked. They recall her dad coming to the door in his underwear and glaring at Sandy before letting his daughter in.
The “Sunday Rules”. On Sundays you went to church with your family. Then you could have dinner with one family or the other. You were not allowed to play cards, go to the movies or to parties or bowling on Sundays.
Limited PDA (public displays of affection). You weren’t supposed to hug or kiss or have hands placed on knees etc. Maybe you could put your arm around their shoulders and once in awhile you could hold hands. . .but probably not on Sundays.
My dad believes that my mom made him a better man from the start. She believed in him and supported him and being madly in love has always been a motivator. My dad’s dream was to be an RCMP officer and it was during this time with my mom that he really began making changes to move his life into that career path. My mom knew that she wanted to marry and raise children with the love of her life. After nearly six years of growing together as young adults, weathering their first trials, separations for work and other life events they committed their lives to each other in holy matrimony for “better or worse, rich or poor and in sickness and in health” on September 18, 1982. This promise requires not only love but also maintenance and patience. My parents have been making it look easy for almost 30 years.
A few of the many things I’ve learned about marriage from my Mom
It’s an equal partnership: Marriage isn’t just some all encompassing term for being with your “soulmate” or “best friend” or other goopey-gushiness. It’s not a security blanket or a financial umbrella. It’s not a wedding and it’s certainly not a baby. It’s not meant to always be sunshine, rainbows and pink bunnies. It is a binding partnership with a foundation of love. A partner is defined as someone who takes part in an undertaking with another with shared risks and profits. For my mom this means that in all things she must always work together with my dad. They need to work toward the same goals and they need to share the workload along the way while still playing to each others strengths and weaknesses. There always needs to be room for compromise, changes in the plan and patience and understanding. They succeed together and they fail together. They celebrate each other’s victories and they comfort each other during trials. In everything the effort put forward is equal and the love remains mutual. Love is most definitely the foundation of a good marriage but it’s not necessarily what makes it grow.
Respect: As a kid I remember telling school mates that my parents didn’t fight. Those kids used to look at me like I was completely naive and told me that my parents had to fight, they probably just didn’t do it in front of me. In reality, my parents really didn’t fight, probably because my mom believes in tackling problems head on and not stewing and bottling up emotion. Of course they’ve had disagreements and likely they’ve even had some heated discussions though those discussions never did fall on my ears. In all disagreements though my parents have retained a high level of respect for each other. Now, before I continue on what I know could be interpreted as a debatable topic I would say that I have no intention of judging anyone’s marriage or relationship. Your approach to your marriage is your own and what works for some couples does not work for others. I am only reflecting on what I’ve observed. My parents do not yell at each other, they don’t raise their voices even and they certainly never raise a hand to each other. It’s just not necessary. They believe that when you love someone you want to hear them out, you want to try and understand their point of view and you want to find a solution that suits you both. You think before you talk to avoid saying something you’ll regret later. This might mean walking away and agreeing to talk later but it never means refusing to talk or bottling up emotions. It means respecting your partner enough that your problems with each other are not water cooler topics at work. My mother will never “bad talk” my father in front of anyone. She will never call him by any derogatory names or adjectives and she will never seek to embarrass him in front of peers. It doesn’t matter how mad or frustrated she is. Those type of actions are anti-productive and are ideally not how you should really treat anyone, much less someone you love.
The love is in the little things: One of my favourite memories about my parents is watching them make dinner together. A song would come on like “Lady in Red”. First my parents would start singing it and by the end of it they would be slow-dancing together around the kitchen floor. I knew my parents really really loved each other because of the little things they did for each other. Whether it was timing supper around a hockey game to make sure dad wouldn’t miss anything to picking up a new kitchen gadget or Scottish knickknack just because she knew he would like it, my mom has taught me that actions speak just as loudly or louder than words. Showing that you care is part of the upkeep of a happy marriage. In true “Prince Charming” form my dad loves spoiling my mom. She’s had a marriage filled with bouquets of flowers, “just because” gifts and special date nights.
These are only three things I’ve learned from my mom’s marriage. I know that they work because my parents marriage is quite seriously one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. She’s an amazing wife and partner to my dad and I can only hope that I’ve learned enough to contribute similarly to my own marriage if I’m so blessed at some point.
As I stated at the beginning of this post, my mother is not simply the sum of her awesome marriage. She knows about sacrifice, about making the best of all situations, about being a career woman and most notably to myself, about mothering.
To be continued. . .
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