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The Day We Said “I Do”

January 4, 2012

I suppose, what with the New Year and everything, I should shift my butt and put some more effort into the musings of one Sandy Streams, woman of mystery and all to all, self-included.  But really, what is there to know?  What is there for me to tell? Are any of our lives really that different from each other’s? But then I remember . . . . I am married to Mr E Streams.

To tell you the truth, I forgot I had this blog, this outlet, cheaper by far than therapy and prescription meds but Mr E Streams is an international traveller who more than lives up to his name Mr E.  Seems a tad uncharitable to call him by his real name, Mr Ed (Streams).  The children have given up trying to understand what it is their father does. His “job” involves a convoluted sequence of number crunching components and processes, Swiss regulatory models of guidance, regulations and validations et al.  Whilst he is doing this, I am busy keeping up with him and at this I work hard. Damned hard.  My marriage? It’s a full-time job!

We said "I do"When I think of our wedding day  oh my God, we were children!  How on earth did the parents, the adults in the room, allow this event to take place?  Our youthful confidence took us all the way down the aisle to where the preacher pronounced us man and wife when in truth we were then, and for many more years to come, boy and girl.  I saw the sour look on my mother’s face which was nothing new to me.  It was her signature look and anything more celebratory would have looked . . . odd, and so out of place.  My mother-in-law, however, beamed with pride.  Oh my, I thought, how lovely that she is so happy for us!  That she approves of me as a wife for her son!  My Sally Field moment of triumph in feeling truly Liked! Having grown up in the middle of a large, totally dysfunctional family (although not truly aware of it then, albeit nursing suspicions – one of those strange revelations which takes time in revealing themselves, don’t you think?) I was happy for any crumb of comfort which came my way and her broad, beaming smile wrapped itself around me like the biggest, warmest hug!  I was not only getting a husband, I was getting a new, happy set of parents!

We said “I do” to the clap of thunder and heavy rain. We rolled our eyes in heavy portent at what the gods of marriage might have doomed us to.  We walked down the aisle and out of the church to a blaze of afternoon sunshine, his happy parents there to greet us.  My mother-in-law, my new best friend, told me how beautiful I looked!  “Just like Jenny Prince!”  Jenny Prince!  That I should be so  . . . honoured, grrr.   The princess ex-girlfriend of Mr E’s younger brother. The one who got away but never far enough away.  The forever reference point of beauty, style and grace. The eternal ‘if only . . .”

My mother-in-law squeezed my hands, or was she squeezing the imaginary hands of Jenny Prince?  “We are so glad you married Ed.  Now we will never have to worry about him again!”

Our mothers’ smiling faces haunting me throughout the following years, one up, the other most definitely down.  Only with time came the full realisation of what we, the kids, had let ourselves in for.

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