Marriage.

Last night, I lay awake thinking about marriage. About my marriage. About being together for 11 years (married for 3), and about all of the ups and downs, sideways steps, mysteries, and not-such-mysteries, that come along with it. Joe and I like to play a game where we guess what the other one would choose or prefer. As in, "Let me guess. You came home from work, ordered a pizza, jumped on the couch, and put on "House"." As Joe giggles, "Yes! You know me so well!" Ok, so that one is easy. When Joe has a rare night alone, pizza, or mac-n-cheese, are most often his indulgences.
But we take it to an entirely new level, guessing what the other was thinking, and such. We both love when the other has guessed our quirky ways correctly. We are seen. And known. And loved. Last night, though, I decided that marriage was, among other things, an exchange. Not as in "I'll trade you". That feels stingy. Rather, imagine that there are two overflowing cups, and one big bucket they sit within. As the cups spill over, as they do, the bucket is filled up with a mixture of the two. This bucket is now poured back into the cups, filling them up again. You have a little bit of mine. And I now have a little bit of yours. And on and on, it goes.
Marriage begins with an exchange of vows. I take you. You take me.
Of course, within that, is an exchange of promises. This is who I will be to you. You can count on me for that.
And there is the exchange of dreams. "I want 4 kids." "Me, too." That one was easy. "I want to spend a year living by the ocean with bare feet." "Really? I want to stay here with my job." Harder.
And there is the exchange of expectations. Ah. Let's admit it. We all have them. And here's where it gets sticky. We may forget to make them into requests, and to make them clear. Instead, our partners hear, even if we don't say it, "if you loved me, you'd..." or "any good husband would have..." And that hurts.
And good marriages have more exchanges of gratitudes than they do complaints (heard about that 5:1 ratio??). And more exchanges of loving glances and smiles than eye rolls or sighs.
And, so, in my musings last night, I thought about the energetic exchange. The moment of Joe walking in the door after a stressful day of back-to-back meetings and endless e-mails, and me after a tiring day of baby-chasing and squeezing work and errands into the mix. What happens at that exchange sets the tone for the evening, our evening. Are we exchanging stress and chaos? Or love and humor? It matters. That tiny little moment matters. My cup needs humor more than stress. His needs love more than chaos.
And then I had one fleeting thought before my weary eyes shut. Truly good marriages are constant exchanges of kindnesses. Here, have this, my beloved. You had a stressful day. I had a tiring one. Here, sit with me. Or, as Joe might say, "let's rub feet!" (each other's, that is, not some random feet that we both sit there and rub together, in case you were wondering.)
Oh, and I did have one more thought. They are also exchanges of surprises. So that our partners don't ever get too good at that guessing game.
After all, life must never become dull.
Me thinks.