Category Archives: Perspectives of Marriage

The Perfect Marriage

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One thing I’ve learned by blogging about marriage stuff is that everyone’s marriage is different.  I mainly found this out through this post where I suggested what I thought were universal tips that would help with marriage.  Boy, was I wrong!   

One reason why different marriage advice works for different people is that we all have such different personalities.  I’m a laid-back non-confrontational kind of girl, and today’s guest poster, LittleDuckies is more direct and passionate.  She lives in Jerusalem with her toddler and husband, and loves to write (and read).  While she is a teacher by trade and earned a Bachelor’s in Education, she is currently working from home.  I’m so glad that she’s sharing her perspective on marriage.  Enjoy!

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Perspectives of Marriage: Marrying Perfection

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Cold Stone Creamery

Image by ladybugbkt via Flickr

Penina Herskovitz, originally a Clevelander, now lives in Miami Beach with her husband, 15 month old daughter (and one on the way).  She has been teaching preschool for ten years, was a math major and enjoys playing the piano when she gets a chance.

Growing up in today’s world, little girls are constantly bombarded by ideas of what a husband should be like. A husband should be Prince Charming who sweeps his wife off her feet (usually after rescuing her from death by poison fruit with a magical kiss), or he should surprise her with a candle-lit home-cooked gourmet dinner, or he’ll be a Super Shopper, able to buy his wife stunning jewelry and matching dress and shoes as a surprise, and she will love them and, by extension, him.

When I got older, I started reading marriage books, and how marriage takes work, communication, forgiveness, understanding, patience, and knowing when to keep your mouth shut. I hate to sound like everyone else in the world when I say that I was convinced that my husband was going to be perfect. At least, “perfect” according to Disney movies, and Zales and Macy’s commercials.  He’d always know the right thing to say and do for me when I needed it, and I would be a kind and loving (read: awesome) wife who knew exactly how to get him to respond how I needed. I wouldn’t need to work on myself, I was pretty patient and understanding already, right?

Yeah, right.

I met my husband about two and a half years ago. He was the best – smart, wry sense of humour, knew tons of random information (just like me!), was adventurous, and very considerate of what I wanted. If I wanted to go for a walk instead of sitting in Cold Stone Creamery, great, let’s go! Coffee? Soda? Ice tea works great also! He really paid attention
and tried hard to do what I wanted also. Wonderful!

We were married 4 or 6 months after we first met (complex dating story cut short: we didn’t see each other for 2 months after our first meeting, too much travel and waiting on more information). We had a beautiful snowy wedding, I wore my dream dress, he performed shtick I’d rarely seen before, and friends and family told us how happy we both looked.

Three weeks after the wedding I called my shadchan in tears. My Prince didn’t seem to care how hard I worked to make suppers for him, or he didn’t care for the food I made, or didn’t notice when I dressed up nicely for him or cleaned the house. What happened to Mr. Perfect all of a sudden? What happened to our fairy-tale marriage?

Luckily, my shadchan is a very wise woman, with, Baruch Hashem, a beautiful marriage that I’ve looked forward to having myself. She reassured me that it was normal, that marriage isn’t always wine and roses, and there is a period of adjustment. I mean, two people who’ve known each other for a matter of months are suddenly expected to live together, without knowing the other’s preferences, quirks, habits and tastes. And I want that to happen in only three weeks?? She then said the one thing I had read over and over during all those years:

“Marriage isn’t about two people getting what they want for themselves, it’s about two people giving what the other one needs for the sake of the home.”

Those same words now took on an entirely new meaning. I finally understood what they were talking about.  My dream husband was someone who catered to me, did everything I wanted. Yeah, that might be cool to have, but it wouldn’t make a good husband, it would be more like a servant.

She then reminded me of all the great qualities my new husband had, pointing out how they would make my life easier in the long run. Yes, he didn’t notice the house was clean, but, once children are born, wouldn’t that be a good thing not to notice? Ok, so he’s picky about my food, but, thank G-d, he knows his way around the kitchen – sometimes better than me – and he can show me how he likes his meals. Did I really want him to notice everything I did around the house? Or was it better for me that he’s (usually) oblivious and won’t notice when something isn’t the way he wanted? Do I really need him to surprise me with clothing? Or do my tastes change so much that it would be a disaster anyway?

I’ve replayed that conversation in my head over and over in my head for the last two years. Thank G-d, I’ve reached a stage where I understand my husband so much better. He’s not perfect, but neither am I.  My food isn’t always great, even for my tastes, and now I know not to ask “Do you like it?” but rather “How often should I make it?” I know he takes an hour to get ready for bed at night, and that ‘putting something away’ is not the same as ‘putting it back where it used to be’. I know he likes to be involved in chosing our home decorations, but he doesn’t mind being surprised by a new tie, regardless of the colour.

And as I pay more attention to him, I can see more of what he does for me, and appreciate him so much more. He sweeps the floor almost every night, and takes over dishes duty when I’m too tired. He takes such good care of our daughter if I decide to go out, and they have a great time together. And he makes sure the laundry goes into the machine on Sunday morning while playing with the baby so I can sleep late.

So are we now the perfect couple? Who cares? We’re busy working on our marriage.

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Living outside of stereotypes

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Cambridge, MA: Harvard University

Image by pobrecito33 via Flickr

Chavi Cohen is a young mother of two, living in Cleveland, Ohio.  A Harvard graduate with a penchant for reading through meals and seeking out intellectual stimulation, she’s always trying to find a happy medium between mommy and me.  On her blog Harvard Housewife she writes about connecting to herself, her friends and family, and her choices in life.

I was reading an article in a Binah magazine a few weeks ago which described one woman’s first anguish and then self-satisfaction at having given up a promotion years earlier because she believed the hours and responsibility would interfere with mothering her children.  She was dismayed that someone who was less qualified than her got the promotion and further upset that maybe, with all her skills and qualifications, she should be rising to some top professional position as the promoted friend was.

While reading this, I couldn’t help but think of my own marriage and self. I recently took a Myers-Brigg personality test.  I came back as an ESTJ.  In short, (you could Google it if you really want), this profile is the leadership profile.  60-80% of corporate CEOs are this profile, as are numerous presidents, Sandra Day O’Conner, Colin Powell and tons of lawyers.

The test administrator told me, upon reviewing my results and knowing that I have two children, that not only is this a highly unusual profile for a young woman (I knew I was weird!) but almost no person possessing this profile could happily be a stay-at-home mom.

Funny, that’s what I told my husband-to-be on our third date.  Fresh from the yeshiva world and his wild transformation to observant Jew, he was convinced that all frum women were either nurses, babysitters, OTs, PTs or accountants.  Working for Congress and raising money, and, gasp!, working with men, did not ring authentic.

Although I did like him a lot, I had to be honest.  I said,

“Well, that’s just not me.  If you’re looking for someone like that then I don’t think this is going to work.”

Evidently, he put aside his reservations because we got engaged four weeks later…

For me, there is immense personal satisfaction in doing something well. At the same time, I know I’m not wired to be home with my kids all the time.  I would go crazy.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good mom (if I say so myself) and love my kids to pieces.  But actually playing with them, or reading the same book 20 times can exhaust me rather quickly.  Yet, strategizing an approach to a donor, putting together a really compelling message for an organization or writing a killer proposal leaves me with that “job well done” feeling.

And here I have to give credit where credit is due.  Knowing my husband’s initial feelings on the subject, we could have been in for a rocky ride.  And in the beginning it was a little tough – not gonna lie.  But some of the greatest pleasure I get out of my marriage is when my husband supports me – REALLY supports me.  Whether its holding down the fort when I go for a quick day business trip – or urging me to ask for a little more responsibility at work – or putting up with me when I’m working and not doing household chores – that’s when I really feel like he gets me and I really feel appreciated and part of a wonderful partnership.

And I’m not the easiest wife to put up with.  I forget napkins every time I set the table, I hardly dust and I definitely don’t clean toilets.  I get frustrated easily when my toddler is just acting like a two year old and sometimes just have to remove myself from the situation and let him take over so I can keep my cool.  I am known for using the phrase “I really don’t know why the baby is crying so much!” as code for – “PLEASE save me from this screaming child before I lose my mind!”

And amazingly, most of the time, he’s ok with that.

I’ll admit it.  I’m the type of person that would take that promotion the woman lamented over in Binah.  And my husband is the type of person who would support me doing it.  I can support my family, support myself and my own needs and be supported, all at the same time.  Isn’t that what we should all be striving for?

Believe it or not, when describing my husband, the test administrator said -

“yes, that sounds like exactly the type of man you would marry.  Most men would run screaming from you, but he fits your complementary profile.  He gets you and he’s ok with who you are.”

Now while I wasn’t too thrilled to hear that most men would run screaming, I’m glad my husband didn’t.  And I’m glad that there’s a beautiful level of acceptance and understanding that forms the backbone of our marriage.  Just goes to show that although we might think the Binah lady’s decision is the right one as far as hashkafa and religion goes, really, there’s an even greater answer I think – one that is intensely personal and depends on just what type of personality you are!

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Communication in the Real World of Married Life

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New Enchanted Tales set of Pez dispensers feat...

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Amy Newman Smith is married with three beautiful children and a wonderful husband. A full-time mom, part-time writer, editor, teacher and minivan road warrior, Amy thinks the Disney Princesses should embrace the values of self-reliance, internality and finding treasures on the tree lawn.

About this time two years ago, I noticed my husband didn’t always finish our conversation by telling me he loved me when he checked in from the office on his cell phone. Frankly, I was worried. What did it mean? Were we having problems? Did we need to talk to someone? (Admittedly, the fact that I was a hormone-crazed pregnant lady might have made this a bigger issue in my mind than it was in real life.)

After a few weeks of letting this swirl around in my head, I finally asked what was up. (Although, I didn’t literally say “What’s up?” as I find that particular phrase off-putting and indicative that you don’t really care what is up with the person you are asking it of.  But I digress.)

My kind, patient husband explained to me that when he changed jobs (which coincided with the drop in I love yous) he had moved from a semiprivate office with a door to a cubicle  farm, a place not known for its romantic ambience.

“It’s not anything I’m embarrassed by,” he explained, “but while personal calls aren’t forbidden, I always feel like I’m disrupting my co-workers and that whispering sweet nothings is inappropriate.”

And there’s the rub, two people having a communication breakdown fostered by one of the tools that is supposed to make our communication better. “Communication is key to a healthy relationship,” we are told by people who are 100 percent right, but how in the heck is communication supposed to work in the real world of married life?

The alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m.  All communication going on as the family rushes around to get dressed, have breakfast and make their way to their morning destinations is strictly functional.

“Get your coat on.”

“Do you have your backpack?”

On a good day, there is time for an exchange of “I love you” and “I hope you have a good day.” The day passes.

We try to reach out mid-day, but my call often comes as an important piece of work is at hand and his comes when I am in the car, busy with kids, etc.

My husband returns home at 6:30 p.m. Once again, minimal communication going on as dinner is made and served. We make it a point to ask about each other’s days, but the narrative is often interrupted by the demands of right now:

“Use a napkin, not your fingers.”

“No, you cannot have Pez for dinner.”

The children want their own chance to communicate with Daddy as we eat dinner and he gets them off to bed with stories and Sh’ma. Then, most nights, someone is out the door, me to a meeting, husband to learning, either of us to run a necessary errand. And after a certain hour, attempting conversation with Mr. Smith is useless. If he were a superhero, he would be “The Sleeper,” (complete with costume of pajamas with a giant S on the front.) He is able to fall asleep, sitting upright and holding a briefcase on a loud moving train.

As I recently told him a story I had read, of four Mossad agents who executed a Nazi war criminal hiding in South America while dressed only in their underpants, I was interrupted by the soft sound of a snore. (You would have thought I was discussing the wallpaper patterns.) Clearly, synchronizing our communications schedules is a challenge.

Obviously, asynchronous communication is the key. But we are a couple that neither texts nor tweets. I refuse to believe real communication be compacted into 140 characters. And you can call me narrow-minded, but I can’t see having a substantive conversation in the shorthand of the Blackberry world (e.g., “what yeshiva R we sending Ploni 2”???)

A private Facebook feed has its advantages, I suppose. A 420-character limit gives you space to get your point across while maintaining grammatical integrity. The conversation is logged, ending disagreements about whether you did or did not remember to tell someone that the kids have a playdate scheduled for Sunday afternoon. You could even establish a rule that disagreements that occurred more than three clicks of the Older Posts links ago may no longer be brought into current discussions. Mark Zuckerberg’s gift to the world certainly has its advantages.

Baruch HaShem for Shabbos, with no work, no cell phones, meals cooked ahead. An oasis of communication and calm. You may not be able to upload pictures and links to it, but I’ll take a Friday night dinner with my bashert any time.

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The Clueless Caregiver

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Open bottles of Extra Strength Tylenol and Ext...

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Nikki Flores (aka CluelessMe) first hit the blogging scene with the Clueless Newlywed blog, which was a fun light-hearted blog, cataloging the unique and clueless adventures surrounding herself and her new husband. Just because the honeymoon is over doesn’t mean the cluelessness had come to a close. Follow the story at cluelessme.com and watch as the two stumble through buying their first home, fighting with neighbors, having their first kid and much more. Perhaps you could give Nikki Flores some advice to help her get a little more clued-in or at the very least, laugh at her expense. Follow CluelessMe on Twitter @nikkiflores.

You know the age-old wedding vow, “In sickness and in health”? Well, when I stood under the chuppah and got married three short years ago, I never really gave much thought to that vow. Unfortunately for my husband’s sake, I really should have.

I had no idea that when my husband placed that wedding band on my finger, it inevitably meant that I would be put into a position where I would get up close and personal with vomit, whining and an overall sense of ickiness without any instructions on how to handle these types of situations whatsoever.

Allow me to introduce myself:  My name is Nikki Flores and I am a clueless caregiver, or so my husband claims.

Let me start off by saying that over the course of the three or four years we dated, my husband never came down with anything. I suppose that’s why I was caught so off-guard the first time I he actually became ill.

There he was, a full-grown 160-pound man with his head in the toilet, heaving just like a cat hacking up a massive hairball. Judging by the obnoxiously sick-sounding noises escaping his throat and the lack of puke in the actual toilet bowl, I was able to draw only one conclusion—He was faking.

So I did what any good-humored wife would do in my situation, I laughed in his face and told my husband the gig was up.

“I know you’re faking.”

I remember saying plainly, as I left my husband alone in the bathroom, hugging the porcelain throne.

We left the hospital exactly 12 hours later, only after his 104 fever had dwindled down to a more manageable 100 degrees, and tucked away in my purse was enough medicine to sedate a small elephant. OK, so maybe that one time I might have misjudged the severity of my husband’s illness, but everyone makes mistakes, right?

The next time I remember my bedside manners coming into question revolved around a “foot injury” that mysteriously afflicted my husband at the exact time we had scheduled to do a lot of outside yard work. As I recall, he milked his self-diagnosed “torn ligament” for a good two weeks, and he once again, (in my humble opinion), put on a good act with his hopping around on one foot because it hurt too much to put pressure on his wounded one.

I barely batted a lash when he started scooting slowly up the and down the stairs on his butt like a toddler whose legs aren’t quite big enough to naturally go up and down steps. And I certainly didn’t hold my breath when he insisted that he couldn’t drive because he needed his “injured foot” to push in on the clutch. The last straw was when he asked me twice in one night to get him some ice for his foot. I lost it and remembered shouting

“What!?!I just got you ice two hours ago!”

Clearly, my husband had blown this whole “torn ligament ailment” out of proportion, as he was literally making me wait on him hand and foot.  I suppose it wasn’t until we left the doctor’s office the next day with my husband hobbling on crutches and wearing an orthopedic shoe on his left foot that I was able to admit that he may have done something substantially more painful than stub his baby toe.

Which brings me to his most recent affliction … A couple of weeks ago, I came home from work, and he was moaning and groaning that he didn’t feel well. I thought for sure that something must have been wrong with the digital thermometer I used to take his temperature because it read 103, and my husband kept saying that he was freezing cold. I knew that my husband was just looking for an excuse to stay in bed and get out of doing the dishes, which he swore the previous day he would do on that day.

It wasn’t until the next day when my husband called up to say the doctor told him he had the flu that I was able to convince myself that CVS really hadn’t sold me a faulty thermometer after all. Apparently, there’s this funny thing with fevers … The person who has one feels cold even though their internal body temperature is boiling hot. Come on … It’s not like everyone knows that’s how fevers work, right?

Clearly, I can’t be labeled a poor caregiver for something that I didn’t know.

So you see … I’m not a really the clueless caregiver my husband claims that I am, it’s just that I was never faced with having to care for a sick husband before, so I simply just lacked a little know-how.

Now that I’ve lived through a couple of bouts of husbandly sickness, I know exactly how to care for him when he gets ill. In fact, I even know for a fact that I can’t give my husband Tylenol when he has a fever because it makes him hallucinate … No wait, that’s Aspirin. I can’t give him Aspirin. Yeah, that’s it. I think…

Home is where we are

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A touchless car wash, which uses high pressure...

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Shoshana Rubli is a wife, first-time mommy, voice/dance teacher, performer, and part-time blogger at We Will Be Like Dreamers. Originally from NJ, she now resides in Jerusalem- where she and Rivki were roommates in seminary. She is happy to be sharing ‘space’ with her again!

We moved this week. We found an apartment on Erev Shabbos, signed on Sunday, and the mover came for our boxes on Wednesday morning.  And today is Thursday. We still don’t know where we packed the coat hangers, and I don’t have working appliances yet.  Know the feeling?

This was our first move since the wedding (20 months ago). So all of the packing, transitioning, and shopping for new items (like a shower curtain) brought me straight back to my headspace during our engagement.

When we were engaged, I felt like I was taking a giant leap into the unknown, in so many ways. This is one of the hallmarks of engagement. Every detail was uncertain, every consultation with my ‘future husband’ over plans of our soon-to-be-shared life felt out-of-sync (this was mainly male/female, enhanced, of course, by our Swiss-American cultural difference), and I was plagued with self-doubt over how I would perfectly fulfill a role I have never attempted.

This week, I saw how much I’ve grown since then. We’ve…transformed…since then. This time, moving felt good. Even in 4 days’ time. I knew that the only thing changing were our surroundings. Our actual base, our marriage, will not change (except for the better). My home is not my kitchen, my clothes, my door, my key. My home is my husband. My home is wherever we are. And there have been many tests in our shared life so far- to show us that we can withstand, care, encourage, support, and pull through for one another under all circumstances.

As a child, I loved drive-through car washes. I loved staring through the windshield as it was being assailed on the outside by water jets and cleaning agents. I reveled in the feeling of safety – of feeling completely protected in the midst of bombarding chaos. That is how I can describe being married to my husband. Olam Ha Ze (this world) is the place where we will earn our stripes through perseverance in the midst of trial. We can, and will, be blasted from all sides, but our car is air-tight.

p.s. I still love drive-through car washes. If you know of one in the middle east, I’m all ears!

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Judaism, Feminism, and Marriage

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The Chuppah

Image by scotthelsinger via Flickr

 Hi!  Welcome to Life in the Married Lane!  If you’re new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed.  Thanks for visiting, and enjoy your stay!

Katie Harris, a Cleveland native, is a freelance writer and author of the blog Midwest Mama in Israel where she discusses cooking, religion, and modern motherhood. She currently lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel with her husband and baby boy.

One of the reasons why I love the Jewish concept of marriage is because it demands respect from both partners. I respect my husband because he is intelligent, hardworking with a will of steel, and is a genuinely compassionate person. But I respect him because he is my husband. And the father of my son. Right away the feminist in me is piping up saying:

That’s just years of sexism talking. What about respect for ME?

When you read it out loud, it seems more than a bit egocentric. Since becoming more involved in Judaism, my concept of feminism, femininity, and marriage have been completely toppled and redesigned. Our Sages teach that a man should honor his wife more than himself, and in doing so will have peace in his tent. That’s easy enough to say, but if you delve into that statement and its ramifications, it’s quite a feat.

We are naturally self-absorbed. Even the most benevolent person has a stitch of self-preservation in his blood. Whenever a situation presents itself we automatically think “how is this going to affect me?” But a husband is meant to overcome that: to transcend that selfish nature and give to his wife even more than what he gives to himself.

Ok, so my husband is giving me the better portion of meat. But what am I supposed to give him? Do I really have to give up my whole life to serve my husband?

Growing up in a post-feminist society, I was always torn with the concept of marriage. I knew I wanted to be married, and I always wanted kids, but the idea of a wife who stays home and “tends the house” was not, from my understanding, what a true feminist should aspire to.

Because women fought so hard and for so long to gain headway in the workforce, it seemed a shame to throw all that away. So why, despite everything, did I yearn for diapers, cookies, and dinner on the table at 6? I think there is a much larger and more complicated issue at work here.

After getting married in 2009, my husband decided to continue learning in the yeshiva in Jerusalem where he had been studying up until our wedding. I am an educated woman, with a degree from a well respected place of higher learning.  At this point, I could have taken the modern woman’s approach and got my tush out into the workplace.

But when I discovered that I was pregnant, I realized what I would be giving up if I were to work a 9-5 job. I would have to send my kid to daycare, maybe after-school daycare and quite possibly miss out on many of his childhood milestones.

Don’t get me wrong, working sistas. Working is nothing to sneeze at and if you need to go, do it. But I wanted that precious time at home. Immediately my husband stepped up to the plate and left yeshiva, and quickly found work managing an up and coming restaurant outside of Jerusalem.

What we discovered was remarkable. My husband flourished at his job as he had done for years working hard on the kibbutz where he was raised. And I have never been happier raising my little baby boy, experimenting in the kitchen, and taking time to do what I love- write.

As we decided to fulfill these more “traditional” roles, I came to see my husband in a whole new light, and respect him for the man and caretaker that he is. Just as Judaism teaches of respect for a wife, the Talmud says “If you treat your husband like a king, he will treat you like a queen.” I want my son to grow up and see his father as Superman- the one who can do anything, and will do anything for his family.

My own father was this way. I believe wholeheartedly that if my entire family were kidnapped by a boat full of pirates, my father would find a way to save us. I feel the same way about my husband, and I think that’s why I married him.

Growing up with the modern idea of what a woman should be, I became a De facto feminist, believing in the lingo and ideas that men and women are equal in every way and should be treated as such. But being equal does not mean that we are the same. It does not mean that we should share the same strengths or weaknesses. My husband excelled in the workplace, and I at home. That does not make either one of us better or worse. In fact, it has created a stronger partnership.

As I go forward in my life as a wife and mother, and yes, a feminist, I hope to keep redefining myself with every new opportunity. Judaism, with its praise for every aspect of the family, has given me the liberty to embrace a nurturing role that I otherwise might have missed.

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Marriage isn’t Perfect

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Marriage

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Tammy Jutan, born and bred in Johannesburg, South Africa, aged 26, is wife to Doron and mother to Daniel Yaakov (and one in the oven).  She can occasionally be found blogging at http://apinchofgratitude.blogspot.com/

Before I was married, I believed that marriage was perfect.

Seriously.

I thought that if you met someone with common goals, who wanted to make it work as much as you did, then it would. I recall sitting in a shiur by Rabbi Smith at Neve. He was speaking generally about how inherently different men and women are, and how in marriage you basically spend your whole life trying to reconcile those differences.

I was like “Why? Marriage is great,” and was looking really confused (and naïve) about why the Rabbi was being so negative about marriage. He was not being negative, but in fact realistic. He looked at me, and responded incredulously:

“Tammy, do you actually think marriage is easy?”

Now, this was coming from a Rabbi that I really admired, and I have to say that it burst my bubble. But it was a much needed reality check, and that moment has since stuck with me.

A year or so later, I married my now-husband, Doron, who, for the record, barely matched any of the criteria on my ‘list’. To explain further, in the frum world, once you start exploring your dating options, you are encouraged to compile a list of certain criteria that you would like your prospective match to meet. Needless to say, Hashem clearly had other plans for me, further than what was on my ever-changing list.

You see, Doron and I on paper were an unlikely match, but thankfully the shadchan took a chance, went with his gut feeling and set up a date between the two of us. The rest is history.

More than two years of marriage has given me much wisdom. My life is not just about ME anymore, but rather about US. I am now a part of something bigger than myself. I am part of a marriage, the most sacred, age-old institution. Our marriage means the world to me, and many a time it involves sacrificing what I want, and doing what he wants. And that’s ok.

In secular thinking, marriage involves two people- husband and wife, whereas in Judaism, marriage is seen as a partnership between husband, wife, and G-d. And so when it comes time to make a decision, I have to consider the other ‘parties’ in the relationship.

This of course is easier said than done, as when emotions come into play, it is difficult to stay focused. But it is rewarding and so important to carefully consider one’s decisions, and how these decisions will affect the bigger picture.

I have learnt that one can read all the books  and listen to all the advice in the world about working on ones marriage, and understanding the difference between men and women, but it’s not the same as living it.  In truth, while much of the knowledge that can be obtained through various sources can be invaluable, essentially you need two people who are dedicated to the marriage. It is about team work,  listening to each others’ needs, and compromise.

In theory this is all marvelous, and one thinks ‘so what’s the big deal? Doesn’t everyone want marriage to work? Yet in practice, it is a different reality.

We all suffer from a condition called ‘being human’ (that taboo illness that no-one really likes to talk about). We all want to be the best people we can be. We all want to have outstanding middos. And we all want to be perfect wives.

In the perfect setting, your husband walks in to the *clean* house from a long day. The table is set, dinner smells amazing, and the baby is clean and happy and gurgly. And then you wake up from this fantastic dream. The house is a mess, you’re tired, the baby is grouchy, and you’re trying to get dinner ready and keep the baby from tearing apart the kitchen, and then its time to bath to baby, but you need to mix the dinner that’s cooking on the stove, but you cannot leave the baby unattended in the bath…. You get the picture right?

Thankfully my husband knows and understands that I suffer from this ‘human’ condition (I think he does too. I’m pretty sure of it). I thank G-d for him, with all his quirks that make him who he is. He drives me mad most days, as do I drive him mad, but at the end of the day, we know that we are a team, a very unique team that are ready to conquer the world. One day at a time.

Marriage is not perfect, but it is not designed to be as such. Marriage, with the right approach, is about nurturing a union of two souls that have become one. It is about seeing the bigger picture, and knowing that you are a part of something awesome. Shine your light, and be the best spouse that you can be.

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Discovering my BFF

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Here it is!  The first post in the Perspectives of Marriage series.  Enjoy!

Juliya Sheynman is a marketing professional with most of her experience working with Jewish non-profits. A first time Mama – constantly Googling everything from weight average for infants to croupy coughs and colored poopies – she now shares her Mamale questions, dilemmas and marriage perspectives on LadyMama.

There are many things you learn along the way about marriage. Some are aha! moments, and others take some time to sink in.

During my single days, I spent time in Israel with amazing seminary sisters, in New York with wonderful co-workers and friends, and then in LA, living by a kiruv family who packed a house and Shabbos table with entertaining people and planted me eight blocks away from my dearest girlfriends.

Needless to say, in my frum single days, I had great friends, great fun, great shopping sprees and great freedom to spend my time with whom I wanted, when I wanted. We won’t even talk about my non-frum days.

I looked for my husband for a long time – not super long if you look at the shidduch crisis – but looking at my personal crisis, considering I had planned to wed at 22 and he finally came around at 26,  it felt long to me.

So fast forward to the dream wedding in Boro Park (no, we’re not Chassidish – it’s just the closest thing we could do to having a wedding in Israel considering one side schlepped from Seattle and the other from Baltimore!  But our Rabbis were there from Israel, so it was well worth it and well planned).

When we got married, I moved to Baltimore where my husband’s family lives, and where we felt we could have the best life and opportunities for ourselves and our child(ren).  In any community, it takes time to settle and connect.  So here I was in Baltimore, where I knew NO ONE. I had to start looking for friends like it was the first day of class at a new school.

Some communities are warmer than others – kiruv communities take an extra effort to welcome and befriend.  Baltimore takes time!  So fast forward a little more . . . it’s a year since the wedding – I have my dream man, my dream job, my dream baby on the way . . . and my friends . . . wait, what friends???

You see, I’m not a great phone friend. Thank G-d, my friends in NY, LA and Seattle have come to terms with this and still accept me with open arms when we’re in the same zip code.

It took about a year and a half until I found my first true friend in Baltimore- R. Then I had to tell her I was prego because we were planning a ladies’ night out and I couldn’t drink the wine…I was so scared she’d distance herself after she found out, considering we were going to be in different places in our lives a minute after we bonded.  But R was committed because she came from Memphis, and it helped that she got preggers 3 months later! So here we were, with our newborns and our new lives trying to navigate – thank G-d we had our husbands.

Finding friends was really important to me because I needed that familiar connection, that shopping body and confidante. It took me some time to realize that I’ll never really be as close to a girlfriend again…not because R isn’t amazing. She totally is amazing!  Not because our schedules are so crazy or our lives so hectic.

It’s because I had my husband – my true BFF.   My wonderful partner, frenemy and lover.  My shopping buddy and parenting assistant. My muscle and tender caregiver. My friend that came automatically built into marriage.

Perspectives of Marriage Series

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As you probably know by now (and are probably tired of hearing about), my life is about to get even more hectic than it already is.  Since I don’t anticipate being able to post as frequently as usual until this concert is over, I had intended to simply bring back some of my older posts that I thought may be interesting.

Well, when I saw that I had nearly 100 views on Saturday night (really?  wow!), I realized that I needed a better solution for you, my readers (though you are certainly welcome to peruse the archives).

So, I thought it would be nice to put together different takes on married life. I sent out emails to some of my favorite bloggers and writers, and was delighted by the absolutely positive response.  It’s going to be a whole series on perspectives of marriage.

We’ll have posts from newlyweds to experienced wives; from America to Israel; from bloggers you may know to ones you probably don’t (yet).

It’s gonna be AWESOME.

Stay tuned for the first post, written by the savvy and fashionable Juliya Sheynman (she’s a regular on LadyMama), which will be up on Wednesday.

If you would like to contribute, please contact me!  The more the merrier!