Momnesia

Marriage is What Bwings Us Togevah Today

He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard...
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked the crap out of him....
Just like his mother used to do.

My dad sent me this joke poem - and the fact that it was my father, and not anyone else - made me laugh harder than the punchline. He could never be accused of behaving that way. In fact, one of my favorite examples of sacrifice in a marriage comes from a holiday morning a few years ago when my family all sat down for breakfast.

"Don't take that bacon," my mother warned my nephew, Jacob. "That's for Dadada."
Dadada is what Jacob called him when he was just learning to talk, and it stuck forever.

"Why is that mine?!" Dad asked, with a look on his face that seemed somewhere between amusement and irritation.

"Because you like it burned," Mom said, matter-of-factly.

"No, I don't!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, you do!" my mother sputtered.

"I hate burned bacon!" he said. "I like it crispy, but not black!"

She stared at him for a moment before answering: "Honey, that is the way I have been making your bacon for 30 years."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke up, rather sheepishly.

"I always took the darker bacon because I knew the kids wouldn't eat it, and I didn't want you to have to eat it because you were the one who cooked it," he said.

"Well I've been intentionally cooking yours like this ever since!" she exclaimed.

We all burst into laughter.

Out of consideration for his wife, who gave up a teaching career that she loved to raise her three ungrateful children, he had sacrificed the flavor of what might be his favorite food ever for the vast majority of the duration of their marriage.

If someone asked me to give up chocolate for 30 years to save my husband's sanity just a little on difficult mornings, would I do it? I'd like to think I enjoy my husband more than candy...

But that's a lesson I've taken to heart. And every time I suspect Scott is making some small, silent sacrifice out of deference to my feelings, I haul out a warning: "That's how you get 30 years of burnt bacon." He always laughs and relents.

But I bet he makes more of them than I'll ever realize.