EVERYTHING
FOR YOUR FAMILY
KID
QUIPS
“One night, my 3-year-old asked me if she could sleep in my bed. I told her no. She said, “That’s not fair! Why does Daddy get to sleep in your bed?” READ MORE
Mother Knows
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Twenty-five years is a long time, especially when it comes to marriage. Much happens over the span of more than two decades: babies are born, careers change, relatives pass on, hair turns gray, and sadly, for a majority of couples, there is divorce. According to Orange County Superior Court statistics for 2004, 20,160 couples obtained marriage licenses while 11,466 filed for divorce. That’s more than half. My husband and I made it. Last month we reached that silver marriage marker and we celebrated by renewing our vows. We returned to the church we married in and we sealed the deal again. In contrast to the big Italian wedding we enjoyed 25 years ago, this time it was an intimate affair. I carried a nosegay of four roses, one for each member of our family, and my husband slipped a new ring that marks the occasion on my finger. Father Doyle, the Irish priest who was pastor when we married, has since passed away, but another good Irishman, Father Sean, did the service. Instead of a slew of bridesmaids and groomsmen, this time our two sons, now 17 and 19, stood by us. They were there to witness that mom and dad meant what they said back in September 1980. While we committed to each other for life when we married, renewing our vows seemed right. Especially because neither of us really knew what we’d signed on for until we were in the marriage trenches. There are those silly little things: He insists on cutting oranges into slices rather than in wedges. He likes to fold towels in thirds, while I prefer fourths. He’ll wash the dishes but rarely dries and puts them away. And yes, he’s a sock dropper. I’m sure he has his list of annoyances concerning me, but fortunately he doesn’t have his own column. We have been, as dear Father Doyle warned us long ago, through thick and thin. Unfortunately, after giving birth to two boys, there hasn’t been as much “thin” as either of would have liked, but true to his word, he has stuck with me. I tend to talk more than him, always needing to let him know exactly how I feel about things. He endures that. I’m what you’d call overprotective, yet he negotiates through that. To his credit, he’s stayed, when other men might have left. I think, despite the little things, we’re in it for the long haul. From here, 50 years seems an eternity away. But eternity, after all, was the promise. Senior Writer Kimberly A. Porrazzo |
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