Once
a month, in a venue near my home, there is a convergence that occurs. Three seemingly
standard middle aged women enter a time machine. The world stops turning and
rotates backwards, approximately 30 years. Grown men play air guitar and grown women wear
mismatched fluorescent and jelly bracelets. Big hair returns to being all the rage. Socks
and earrings no longer to need to worn in matching pairs. Strangers young and
old bond over the lyrics of music from a decade long gone.
This
phenomenon has saved my marriage.
Experts
worldwide profess that the single best way to have a healthy relationship is to
be a healthy person in that relationship. It’s not rocket science, if you think
about it. Nobody is going to make you happy unless you are actually happy with
yourself. We've all been there. We get home from a terrible day at the office
and zoom in, directly and instantaneously, on the one thing our partner failed
to do. It doesn't matter that they made dinner, moved the laundry and mailed that
package you didn't have time for. They forgot to pick up the dry cleaning… and
that makes you mad, because you NEEDED that shirt for tomorrow. No, you don’t think
you are being unreasonable. The other 25 shirts will NOT be OK for tomorrow. NO,
you WILL NOT calm down. Please stop asking.
I
could lie to you and say that I never make my husband’s life miserable when
feeling frustrated. That really would be a tremendous lie. It would also be a
lie to say that he doesn't do the same to me from time to time. We are human, after all. We live in the same
house, together, day after day. We share our lives, our finances and our
children. We are intimately connected to each other, so that the other is immediately
impacted by our current condition. It’s inevitable, really.
When
the kids were born, six years ago, our marriage changed tremendously. In many
ways, it became stronger than ever before. We had extended stay NICU babies,
for one. Anyone who has experienced the NICU with their babies knows how
tremendously difficult the experience is. Leaving my babies in the hospital,
day after day, tormented me. It broke my heart. And so, I let my husband feel
it with me. I can’t imagine it was terribly pleasant for him, but he stood by
me and we emerged stronger than ever. When
he needs something from me, he only has to ask once, when it really counts. I
can’t speak for him, but I can only assume that my willingness to see his
priorities as our priorities has strengthened his bond to the relationship as
well.
As
anyone with kids will know, however, the change in marriages post children is
not all good. Both partners get wrapped up in the daily grind, and there’s precious
little time for socializing independent of young ones. Date nights, Happy hours
and girls’ nights out become scarce, long before you have the time and energy
to realize it. Sometimes, you are both too tired to even desire adult
conversation by the time the kids are in bed, with your partner or anyone else.
When
my twins were very little, I was honestly too exhausted to even realize or
admit that my former self had gone completely into hibernation. I simply did
not have the time or energy to address it, and I was being practical. If it didn't have a solution, I didn't have time to dwell on the problem. Formerly a
very social person, my social life dwindled.
But
then, something very small yet very important came to pass. My neighbor, a
lovely woman within my age group, invited me to an 80’s concert. She knew I
enjoyed 80’s music and the tickets were free. She wanted to party with a friend
who would appreciate it, and she thought I fit the bill. She was completely on
target. We had a blast. We danced, we sang, we lost our voices and stayed up
way too late. The next day, a weary and happy woman dragged herself out of bed,
having almost forgotten that she wasn't a teenager anymore.
And
a tradition was born. We began researching local 80’s bands and started
attending them regularly. We recruited another woman on our street and
indoctrinated her into the club. And then there were three. Along the way, we
found a favorite band and we block off their local dates in advance on our
calendars. We inform our husbands and children that we will be otherwise
engaged, and we dress up in fishnet gloves, legwarmers and blue eye shadow. For
the first time in my life, perching on the edge of 40, I am a band groupie. Perhaps
I should be embarrassed at how happy this makes me, but I’m not. It makes me
happy, completing a part of my being that has been woefully ignored for
significantly too long. And you want to know the best part? It has spilled over
into my life as a wife and a mom. Now, when I’m making dinner and the kids are
driving me crazy, I take a deep breath and put Pandora to an 80’s station. I
dance, the kids dance with me, everyone laughs. The irritation lifts away. The
house that my husband returns to is one of happy chaos, mostly void of
discipline and frustration.
So, OK, maybe it hasn't save my marriage. Perhaps it has simply reignited an
essential part of me, the part that really saw my husband missing the crazy
wife he married. And found her.
