A Canuck in Kantuck: The suprise of married life

As of yesterday, Husband and I have officially been married four months. It’s a day I suppose we might have celebrated if either of us actually remembered the anniversary. As it was, Life got in the way, with baths to draw and piano to practice and dinner to make and Wacky Day to prepare for. Still, it’s nice to look at my daytimer and realize another month-anniversary has passed, with memories of The Day still quick to surface.

As it is, I’m quite enjoying married life. I never really thought I wouldn’t, but I also didn’t expect to like it so much. To be honest, I never really thought being married would change things. We’d already lived together for several years, after all, and our routine had already assumed a relatively smooth bob along the waves.

But marriage is a real, round thing, not a piece of paper, and things are different now.

I realized this when Husband texted me the other day asking if it would be OK for him to buy a new suit. I sat staring at the note for a moment, wondering when the last time was he’d asked for my permission to make a purchase. I soon realized it hadn’t ever happened — not to buy a car, not to buy clothes. It was something we just always did, not really assuming our purchases affected the other.

But here was the request and here, more importantly, was the cozy feeling that stemmed from it. It wasn’t the asking so much, as I really didn’t care whether he added another suit to his closet or not. Instead, it was the consideration I liked, the courtesy that comes from being a team rather than an individual. “What affects me affects you,” is what I think the note symbolized, a message that he very likely didn’t intend but one I took and put in my pocket anyway.

As our marriage lengthens, I’ve also noticed the Royal We is entering more and more into our vocabulary.

Pre-nuptials, the “we,” or lack thereof, was a bone of contention. While we’d been together for a long time, Husband had a tendency to answer in the singular if asked a question. If, for example, the query posed to us were “Where do you guys live?” Husband would answer, “I live in Kentucky.”

I, too, lived in Kentucky, of course, lived with him, in fact, moved to Kentucky to be with him, if truth be told, but these facts didn’t seem to enter the equation when he was asked this type of question.

As my female readers might have gathered, these responses usually had me bristling.

But since exchanging our vows, the “I” has left the building. We are now a “we” and his “we” answers are usually accompanied by his arm circling my waist in the most subconscious kind of way.

People, in turn, seem to have picked up on it. For years, I received invitations that were addressed to William Baker and guest. It was a small matter, but it did matter. And after several years of living together, I finally had to wonder if, by addressing William and not me, the host was hoping in a small way he’d bring someone other than my sweet self. Now that we’re married and news of that fact seems to have spread, osmosis-like, in our community, my name now also appears on the invitation, something in which I delight.

A small, petty thing? Yes, probably. One that stemmed from the fact that I wondered if my name would ever be “Mrs. Baker?” Definitely.

And that’s another great advantage to being hitched. All of the pressure of not having tied the knot is gone. No longer do I have to have long, weary discussions with my mom and girlfriends about when it might happen. Now it has and there are finally other things to talk about.

Like babies.

I have to admit, with the settling in that comes with moving into the Marriage House, that baby light switch does seem to flick on. I’m not sure if mine is on all the way — it’s still just a 25-watt bulb at best — but its light appears to be warm nevertheless. And something to consider.

Isn’t it nice to know that consideration, or the reflection on anything, isn’t only mine anymore, that I have someone standing beside me in his new suit wondering too.

Happy belated anniversary, William.

Staff writer Tara Kaprowy can be reached by e-mail at tkaprowy@sentinel-echo.com.

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