Me, we and the art of marriage
Ever since we got married and combined our financial lives, my husband and I have used the same phrase: “What’s yours is mine, what’s mine is mine, and what’s ours is mine.”
Of course, when we got married in our early 20s, we didn’t have much that was yours, mine or ours. But habit kept us using the same “accounting” methods even after we actually started earning money.
We have found that our complete commingling of funds removes some of the conflict that might come from having separate his and her bank accounts. But despite the seeming ease of our financial commingling, it doesn’t seem to apply to the rest of the “stuff” we brought to the marriage. You know, all that other stuff: family, friends and—my favorite—emotional baggage.
It amazes me that even though we’ve been married for 32 years, my husband still doesn’t refer to my family so much by name. He’ll say: “Your mother called.” “Your niece got married.” “Your family is cray cray.”
OK, he doesn’t say that last one. Often. But I know he’s thinking it. And it’s not like he doesn’t know that his family is equally crazy. (In case he ever forgets, I’m always ready to point it out to him.)
I will admit, in the beginning, I liked my husband’s family a lot more than my own. Who wouldn’t? His family was quiet. No one really yelled. His mom ruled the family and no one questioned her authority, which she doled out with a smile and great wisdom. I happily accepted not only his name but by immersing myself in all things Sherman and rejecting all things Weinstein (my family of origin).
Early on, my sister accused me of being disloyal. I told her I was just identifying with my new “captor.” And the night before my wedding, my loyalties were sealed when my Dad started yelling about, well, nothing. I just remember sitting in my room, grateful that by becoming a Sherman I was ostensibly escaping the madness.
But over time, I realized that being a Sherman meant letting go of all sorts of things that were familiar to me. When we were first married, we learned about the huge differences in how we were raised.
He’s a country boy and I’m a city girl (think Green Acres without the Hungarian accent). I grew up going to the theater and eating at fancy restaurants. He grew up going to the American Legion and eating fish fry. He drove a pickup truck with a NAPA hat on top of it and I took the ferry to Manhattan. I’d shop for clothes every week or two, while I’m certain he’s still wearing some of the same clothes he had when we got married over three decades ago.
And yes, even though the commingling of funds was easy at first, we still had a big divide in how we thought about money. Let’s put it this way: I didn’t really think about it—I just spent it.
But how can we be blamed for our differing point of views? My husband grew up with a father who was still mired in the Depression, and I grew up with a father who literally had two full closets of clothes.
We also learned a lot about the other person’s habits. Such as, I love to stay up late and will work late into the night. My husband loves to go to sleep at nine and wake up around 4:30 a.m. to greet the day. If I just stayed up a little later and he woke up a little earlier, we would meet each other in the middle of a perfect day.
Luckily, we agree on the same level of neatness. Actually, he’s a lot neater than I am. I’ve learned to exploit this, because if I leave a mess he will clean it up for me because it drives him crazy.
One of the biggest differences is how we socialize. I love socializing. I would do it all the time. A large group of people in a room makes my heart soar. While my husband appears to be a total extrovert, his favorite place in the world is our family room with no one in it but our children and our dogs.
Of course, there are many more volatile things to create differences in a marriage, like religion. In our case we are both the same religion, but I grew up far less observant than my husband. The first time my husband came to my family temple with its full choir, organ and tunes he didn’t consider prayers, I knew compromise was in order. I was willing to let go because it wasn’t as important to me as it was to him.
And that’s really what “yours, mine and ours” is all about, isn’t it? The “ours” becomes what you’re willing to let go of and willing to embrace. Over the years, there have been more compromises and negotiations than I can even remember that have allowed us to establish our own family traditions.
Not that it has been smooth sailing all the way. To help couples traverse their new world, some religions require a pre-marriage course. My husband, who became a Universal Life Minister to marry our nephew and his wife, brought together their religious traditions in the ceremony but also included good advice about respecting each other’s difference like, say, rooting for different sports teams. Use national rankings to choose which team to cheer, he advised.
Lisa Lipani, a psychotherapist practicing in Brighton, says the best way to bridge your differences early on in a marriage is to communicate as much as you can and to not make assumptions that we’re all the same. “There isn’t just one way to do something.”
If I were running pre-marriage training, I would add: Continue to develop who you are as individuals, so that “yours” and “mine” combined equals a better “ours.” So I go to the movies by myself, knowing my husband hates movies. Every once in a while, he’ll throw me a bone and join me, as long as it’s a happy movie and there’s no stress in it (hmmm, a movie with no conflict?).
But ultimately, what has helped make our “ours” work has been raising our children and, in doing so, coming up with our new Sherman Rochester set of values and traditions.
Now that our kids are soon going to traverse the world as young adults, they’ll have their own family norms to bring to their romantic partnerships. I hope they’ve learned that what makes “yours” and “mine” into the best “ours” is when you finally realize that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts—even if your family is a little cray cray.