marriage – Page 2

Door Knobs

Our house, Hampoland, is a comfortable mess. A strange, unorthodox home that’s served as a sanctuary not only for our four children, but for many of their friends, kids, stray dogs and young adults, who have sometimes needed a safe and happy refuge from the world.

Structurally, it’s miraculous the house still stands. Walls are cracked, so we spackle and paint. The floors rise and fall with the seasons. The answer…more throw rugs. Hampoland, is a five acre redneck homestead, our youngest daughter, Lex, who is 22, compares to a Dr. Seuss “Who House”.

This morning, I realized what I’ve known for years. Most of the doors in our house can’t be fully closed and most of the door knobs are splattered with paint and are a rattling, jacked up mess. Our knobs are unable to fully close and lock any interior door in the house, much less keep it secured. They are loose and jangle in their holes, incapable of keeping anything inside or outside a room. Our doors can be pulled closed, then just as easily pushed open.

Years ago, we could have replaced all these useless door knobs, I suppose. But it never seemed important. New furniture has been moved in and out, cars have been bought and sold, kids have headed off to college, graduated and started their lives. But replacing the ten dollar door knobs was never a priority.

In this house, doors can’t really be closed. Push just a little and you’ll always be able to get in. And maybe that’s a good thing. So, when Alex and I die and this house is demolished, I hope each of our children will take a trashed and useless Hampoland doorknob. Because, when there is love, doors can always be opened.

Love At Rocky’s Corner

Dating is a funny thing. You want to help each other…but how much and when? All those boundaries have to be worked out.

Twenty five or twenty six years ago when Alex and I first started dating, I was trying to get my little magazine, The Spring, up and running and I worked as a waitress at Rocky’s Corner, a legendary Hot Springs Pizzeria.

I’d left my first husband in Key West and was struggling to make things work. Jack and Mary were three and four and we all lived on pizza toast and spaghetti noodles. I met Alex and the first thing he did, was start making “real dinners” for us. The kids were so excited to have three things on their plate, at the same time!!

Alex and I had been dating about a month when he realized how bad the brakes were on my car. He was so concerned he asked several times if I would let him get me some new brakes, and then I could pay him back. But I refused. I didn’t need his help and I wasn’t going to take him money. We’d only been dating a month.

So, Alex came up with a solution on his own. One afternoon, while I was working lunch, unbeknownst to me, Alex snuck into the office at Rocky’s to talk to the owner Joey Diorio. Joey was the PERFECT Chicago style pizza place owner. He had the look, the accent and the attitude. He was a Chicago style pizza pie come to life, thick and cheesy, loud, abrasive, loving and funny. Alex explained the situation to Joey who immediately understood. He summoned an older waitress from Romania or Czechoslovakia, with a heavy accent, to his office. A few minutes latter she stole my car keys out of my purse while I was taking a drink order and delivered them to Alex and Joey.

Alex then snuck out, stole my car and got my breaks fixed. Two hours latter he returned, put the car in the same spot, then took my keys back to Joey, who found the old Romanian or Czechoslovakian waitress, who returned my keys to my purse. She’d been winking at me all day, but I didn’t suspect anything.

Two hours later I got off, sat at the bar counting my tips and drinking a draft beer. I said goodbye to everyone and Joey was acting super odd. Smiling too much and telling me to have a safe ride home.

Going home, everything was great. I had the windows down and the radio turned up loud. I was probably listening to Color Me Bad singing “I Wanna Sex You Up.” It was all just great till I came to the first stop sign…..and almost went through the windshield.

I’ve been married to that car thief for a long time now. But sometimes that’s what loves does. Puts you right through the windshield.

Figuring Out Marriage, Slowly

Twenty one years ago, when our youngest daughter was born, Alex and I were in no way comfortable leaving her with a baby sitter. We decided we’d be poor for a few years and I would stay home with her full time.

Alex was working fifty or sixty hours a week as a chef and I was at home with the kiddos. At first it was kind of cool but then it seemed the walls were closing in on me. I was expected to stay home, cook, clean and try to fix up our perpetually falling apart five acre red neck ranch, while he made fancy food and talking to cute waitresses.

When he came home, they kids were usually already asleep and he was too exhausted to actually talk to me. Or, if he did talk it seemed like all he talked about were the hostesses and waitresses. At least that’s what I heard, and it killed me.

I felt left behind, lonesome for adult conversation, unappreciated and abandoned. Alex got to talk to grown ups, hot grown ups and eat nice food, take a cigarette break and catch up on the news, while I was at home feeding kids, painting the living room and trying to clean goo out of the microwave.

Now Alex is retired. I work full time in radio and we are still trying to save our redneck ranch.

Twenty two years latter, and our situation is exactly the same, except we’re not crazy poor anymore. Two or three times a week clients and co-workers ask me to go out for a beer after work, but I remember what it was like, waiting and waiting for Alex to come home, years ago. If he was an hour and a half late, I was so sad. He’d been with people all day, why didn’t he want to come hang out with me?

So, I’ve made a rule for myself. I can accept these invitation once every two weeks, because seeing Alex is more important to me, our relationship and marriage are more important to me. I have to remind myself, he’s been home alone all day, he’s is waiting to talk to me, probably has dinner ready. Hanging out with friends would just be a bitchy , selfish move. Hanging out with friends or clients after work means I’m building a little life that he’s not a part of. It means I’m leaving the man I love and married behind.

The other issue I struggle with is having the energy to be a good partner when I get home. Yes, I talked to boat loads of clients, ran around like a mad woman trying to keep clients happy, wrote copy and made sales but the stuff he does at home, for us, is just as important. I have to GET OVER MYSELF ! The things I do are not more important that the work he does at home. I can easily convince my stuck up self my work is “important” but it’s no more important or essential than what he accomplishes every day at home.

And we have a never ending list of projects to get done. WE. I shouldn’t expect him to do them alone. I need to get my ass in gear and help him accomplish the stuff we set out to do. Even if it’s at a slower pace.

After twenty five or twenty six years I’m still trying to figure out how to be a good wife and partner. It takes a while to catch on. But I have learned this. The team is more important, because those clients and friends come and go. The team is more important, because the team means love and strength and together we can get so much more accomplished. And the team keeps me from being alone. And the team has my back when nobody else does.

Along time ago someone told me, “Marriage isn’t about being happy. Marriage is about making sure your spouse is happy. If both sides focus on that goal, it works….beautifully.”