25

My parents have been married for 25 years today. TWENTY. FIVE. YEARS.

That's pretty much longer than I've been alive. Which is a good thing, because it means that they got married because they were in love with each other, and not because they had to. Wouldn't that be a sad beginning to this blog? "Well, my parents got married because they got knocked up and it was the right thing to do." Whomp Whomp. I know that kind of thing happens every day, and I know that sometimes it works out for people, but I think current Divorce statistics prove the opposing side of the argument.

The wonderful thing about the last 23 years of my life is that I've never known a minute without love. I've made some really stupid decisions and sometimes I made them twice, but my parents have consistently taken me under their wings and shown love before they showed discipline. Don't get me wrong, my mother has a stare that would put the fear of God into any grown man, and my dad has a certain "Please explain your actions" voice that still sends chills down my spine... but I always knew love before I knew anger. I can't think of a single "Dad speech" that didn't begin with "Do You know How much I love you?" It was usually met with a sigh and a tear before a "Yes" was mumbled in hushed tones. It was always followed by "Can you help me understand why you did what you did?" That's when the middle child syndrome with an excessive need to please kicked in and I cried instead of answering. Eventually he would sigh, let me know that we were going to talk about it, but I needed to go outside and gain composure first. And we always talked about it. My mom had a sharp contrast to discipline, and it usually involved a lot questions. "What were You thinking?" "Were you using your brain?" "Can you tell me why you thought that was a good idea?" The difference between the two is that with Mom, you could always be forward about it. "Mom, I didn't think you would find out about it." With Dad, there was always soul searching involved. What inner turmoil sparked this bad decision? The blazing differences in discipline made for a nice balance in our house. Eventually, I started telling my mom when I messed up before she found out about it, and I found myself hanging out in the room with my Dad in an uncomfortable silence before he said "Do you want to talk about something?" The common thread between the two is that we never went to bed at night without them saying "I love you." Even when I knew they were still disappointed, even when I knew that they were still confused by my actions, and even when I wasn't sure how much I liked them... I was loved. And I knew it. I'm thankful for that.

I don't know much about my parent's dating life, except that the met in a honky tonk (I don't actually know that it was a honky tonk, I mostly just like the phrase), and that my mom was a diva about her ear monitors to my Dad, who wasn't even running the sound at the event. I know that my dad pestered her into a dance, and she still claims that he's the best two stepper around. I know that my Dad fell in love with my Big Brother, and enjoyed him more than he enjoyed my mom some days. I know that my Dad fell in love with my mother quickly, and informed her as such. I know he "passed gas" on their first date, and my mom thought that something was dead in the car. I know that he still doubles over in laughter, and she still shows no emotion but annoyance when she talks about it. I don't know much else about it all, but I know that it led to a marriage, which led to me, which was obviously God's plan and purpose in it all. No? Hm.

I grew up in a home with parents who enjoyed public displays of affection, sometimes to aggravate us, and sometimes when they didn't think we noticed. My dad always said hi to us when he came home from work, but he reserved his first hug for my Mom. He hugged her for an excessive period of time, usually until she said "Okay! I'm busy." He hung out in the living room while she cooked, and they usually yelled tidbits about their day back and forth to each other. Yes, he could have stood in the kitchen and talked, but the Rangers were usually on, and anybody who knows my dad knows his obsession. My mom always made my dad's plate, and he always said "You're such a good wife." She always said "mm-hmm." My parents two stepped in the living room when an appropriate song came on, laughed until they cried at old jokes, and talked about all of the things they were going to do when they were rich. I was usually annoyed that none of those things included me, but that was before I began to see how life worked and just how hard it is to get rich.

I would never begin to imply that things were always good. They raised three kids, and those kids turned into teenagers. Kids cost enough without throwing cars and insurances into the mix. Things were tight, and they tried their best not to let us know it. I'm sure things went on behind closed doors that we never knew about, but I always loved that about them. They never attacked each other in front of us, battled things out behind closed doors, and always let us know they were still in love with each other when they realized that we picked up on tension. I've never lived in a world where my parents being divorced was an option, and I think I take that for granted more times than not.

I'm not naive. I know that my brothers and I are the exception. So many of my friend's parents are divorced, and holidays are so complicated for them. I go to one house to see both parents, and I don't have any step-siblings. I recognize how immensely blessed I am for that. I know how hard it is to be married. I'm only 3 years in and sometimes I wonder how they did it living in a 900 sq. ft. house with three kids. There was no privacy. There was no "alone time." The first 10 years of their lives together was spent in that house before they were able to move into a larger home. When we moved again, they had a house that was almost 3 times larger than the first house, but still found at least 2 out of 3 kids in their bedroom until way past bedtime most nights. My brother and I loved going into their room and telling them anything they were willing to hear. We loved wrestling with Dad while mom attempted to read. We would creep into the room after nightmares, and mom stepped on me more than once while I slept on the floor next to her bed. My Dad was forced to find the balance in convincing his jealous daughter that she was #1 in his world, while still letting his wife know that she was the real winner. He did pretty good most of the time, but there were still times when he slipped up and told my mom "I love you more than anyone in this world." I can still feel the daggers in my back.

What it all comes down to is that today is a day worthy of celebration. Today I celebrate and honor my parent's commitment to each other. I like to believe that they stayed together for my benefit, but I think that maybe they just love the other that much. I know times were hard, but they never let on. I've never seen two people balance each other out more than they do. I've never seen two people fight so passionately about silly things like whether or not Donny Osmond is getting fat. I've never seen two people love each other so selflessly. Because of it, I'm confident in my love for my husband. The poor guy is forced to deal with my comparisons to my excessively romantic father, because Cody is really more like my mother, who could not care less about love letters and flowers. Because of their love for each other, they made me... and because of my love for my husband, I've made the single greatest gift in our world. Ella Morgan is subjected to two grandparents that have loved each other all of their lives, two parents who have followed that example, and years of sitting through PDA from both parties. The girl will be a hopeless romantic. She doesn't stand a chance. What a sweet, wonderful life to live.