Trash Cans and Marriage

Trash Cans and Marriage

Because lasting relationships are rarely glamorous

My husband and I are getting ready for our son’s wedding this weekend.  We are all feeling excited, nervous, anxious, and happy.  As the day gets closer, I can’t stop thinking about what advice we could offer our son and his fiancée. 

It is fun to witness young love.  It reminds me of when we were that age, confident that we would defy the typical traps of long-term relationships.  We thought romance would never fade and that our lifestyle habits would never be bothersome.  Ahh, what you learn after only a few short decades.

Love is easy during the first decade.  Your partner’s quirks and annoying habits seem cute and endearing.  In your eyes, these traits feel special and lovable.  When you and your partner are together, you may even congratulate yourselves on how lucky you are to have one another.  You are likely convinced you will be one of those rare couples that defy the odds and last the test of time.

The second decade brings children and chaos.  Carpools, homework, and conflicting schedules.  Mountains of laundry, lost retainers, and hamsters on the loose.  Shutting the bathroom door no longer guarantees privacy.  And despite it all, those little munchkins are still the apple of your eye, even as they roll their eyes at you.

The exhausting work of the second decade gives way to joy and loneliness in the third.  As parents, you celebrate every milestone for each of your children.  You beam with pride at their accomplishments and whisper “thank you” prayers that the two of you did not completely fail at the most important job in your shared lives. 

Then you head home to an empty house.  You look at your spouse, wondering what to do next.  And they, inevitably, turn on the TV.  As you look around the house, you start to wonder about your life partner.  When did they stop closing the cupboard doors?  Do they know that used tissues go in the trash can?  That person you once found incredibly sexy now has as much appeal as the mysterious deli meat in the fridge.  The little eccentricities that were once so charming are now the bane of your existence.  You can’t help but wonder if your lovable partner was raised by wolves.

Even though my husband is older than I am, I still worry about what would happen to him if I died first.  The house could quickly turn into a dormitory.  The bed sheets might never be washed again.  The trash would be taken out only when the smell became unbearable.  I wonder how long he and the pets would survive on peanut butter and ice cream.  I should probably start writing down some directions.

So, what is the advice here?  If a wedding represents a big, explosive life change, a marriage is more like erosion.  No date on the calendar that says, “today is when things change.”  No, marriage, like life, evolves gradually.  The realization may suddenly occur to you, but the landscape has been slowly shifting before your eyes for years.  One day, you recognize what has been hiding in plain sight. 

You learn that marriage is less about passion and more about partnership. As you navigate the landscape that unfolds, you discover new interests and qualities that rekindle your romance. Maturity and time teach you that the person matters more than the habits.

So, to my son and his fiancée, I want you to know that, although important, romance isn’t always about quiet walks on the beach, candlelight, or music.

Sometimes it’s remembering where the trash bags are kept or that the dog needs to go outside.

Marriage is less about trying to change the other person and more about buying air fresheners in bulk.

It’s not glamorous, but it’s the kind of love that folds the laundry and endures. 

If you’re lucky, you get to spend enough years together to laugh about it all.

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