Monday, April 18, 2011

The Mom-mobile

I drive a 2001 Oldsmobile Silhouette that recently turned 200,000 miles and looks every bit her age.  All the bells and whistles that drew me to her in the beginning have lacked the endurance of the rest of her.  Among the things that don't work anymore are the power locks, heated seats, rear windshield wiper, and the power slide side door. Only the power window on the passenger's side works, but I'm afraid to use it for fear I may get it down and not be able to get it back up.  And not having a functioning driver's side window makes using any kind of drive up or drive through impossible.  


My dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree.  The 'service traction control' light triggers the ABS light which triggers the 'service engine' light...all of which I long ago began ignoring.  The gas gauge doesn't even work anymore.  I don't know what I'll do if the mileage counter stops working because I'd never know when to fill up.


I have one rear seat that is stuck in a forward leaning position.  When I haul kids, everyone fights to not be the last man in and be forced to sit in the 'seat of doom'.  In fact, the dear young teen aged boys I generally cart to and fro have dubbed my beloved kid hauler the 'death trap'.  


But with all her flaws and despite her years showing through, I have quite the affection for my mom mobile.  She has proven herself faithful.  She can carry her own weight and that piled on her by those around her.  And she's long ago outlived her payment making her a solid asset rather than a liability.  With all that said, I think that old van of mine and I have a lot in common.


What I lack in luster, I make up for in longevity.  I may be short on style, but I'm long on substance.  I may be showing my age, but I've earned every gray hair and wrinkle.  And like my four wheeled friend, I have proven myself faithful...faithful as a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend.  I can be a workhorse when need be and a comfortable companion on life's long journey.  I have become mature enough, wise enough and contribute enough to consider myself an asset to this world I live in rather than a constant drain on it.  I can carry a load, weather storms, run on fumes and endure the occasional neglect all moms experience from time to time.  And while I can't tell just how much gas is left in my tank, I feel like I have a whole lot of go still in me.  



Thursday, April 7, 2011

Expectations of Perfection

My mom, a well-seasoned married couple and I were having a discussion during our 'Sacred Marriage' class at church.  We got to talking about our premarital expectations.  Now that's a subject that I can write something about!


I grew up in what I would consider a fairly typical nuclear family...mom, dad, two sisters, a brother and myself.  But the older I got, the less typical I realized my family was.  My mom and dad, with whatever issues, flaws or struggles they've had individually or as a couple, were not only wonderful parents, but they were and are a good couple.  They love each other.  They respect each other.  They've learned to live with each other, accepting one another's differences and forgiving one another's failures.  That is rare.


Growing up, I really don't remember my parents ever fighting.  I'm sure they did, but I never saw it.  I'm sure they didn't always agree on everything...how to spend their money, how to raise us kids, where to celebrate holidays, what color to paint the kitchen.  I know those are things my husband and I don't always necessarily agree on, so I'm sure they had the same issues over the years.  But I, as their child, never knew there was any debate between them on any subject.  I only saw them with their united front, functioning basically as one entity.


I also saw my parents fulfill the traditional husband and wife roles as I was growing up.  My dad always went to work, dealt with the cars, mowed the lawn, handled the discipline.  My mom, even when she worked outside the house, was primarily responsible for the household chores...dishes, laundry, cooking, cleaning and the lion's share of the day to day child rearing.  But neither of them would hesitate to cross lines when the other needed help.  From my prospective, Dad put Mom first and Mom put Dad first.  


So it would seem, given all this, that my parents' marriage would have set a wonderful example for me as I became a wife.  And while that is true in many ways, the one way it failed me was in giving me this expectation of perfection in my own young marriage.


I didn't realize then what I do now...marriages like that don't just happen by chance, they are made.  That's the one thing I wish my parents would have told me.  It would have spared me so much frustration in those early years when I was sure my husband and I would never get it right.  Back in the beginning, I was disappointed that my husband didn't love me the way my dad loved my mom.  He didn't put me first all the time.  He didn't anticipate my needs and meet them swiftly.  He didn't seem to have the same level of commitment and investment in our marriage relationship that my parents had in theirs.


The truth was, he didn't.  The bigger truth was, I didn't either.  At that time, I was just wanting what was best for me, to get my needs met, to have my objectives satisfied.  But what I came to know, through trial and error, disappointment and small victories, give and take, is that marriage isn't always easy.  It takes time and life experiences and purposeful choices to get the roots of marriage to take hold and begin to produce healthy, beautiful fruit.  Fertilizer stinks and pruning can be painful and even make a tree look ugly for a while, but both  aid in making the tree ultimately grow stronger and produce abundantly. The problem is, for a lot of people anyway, that no one tells them that ahead of time.  They are caught off guard when bad things happen and their spouse fails to live up to their expectations.  


It took me some time to get over my unrealistic expectations in my own marriage, to accept that my husband would never be exactly like my father.  My husband is every bit the wonderful man my dad is, but not in all the same ways.  I like to think I'm a good wife, but totally different from the way my mom is a good wife.  And Dan and I are fine parents, but we certainly don't do things like mom and dad did.  It took me a little time as a young bride to figure out that my marriage is just that, mine.  It doesn't have to or need to look like, feel like or function like anyone else's...it couldn't even if I wanted it to.  That's what I wish I had known going in.  That's what I'm trying to make sure my sons know before they become husbands themselves. 


No couple walks away from the alter with a perfect marriage.  Marriage is perfected through the process of being married.  And there's just no way around it.