Lesson 13: Grow Your Own Orangeapples

Perhaps it's time for some history on Nathan and myself to help you, Unknown Reader, get a better feel for us.

Let's begin with oranges and apples:

1.) Politics - I'm a "big liberal" as described by Nathan. (I've been called worse.) He's a big conservative. (Oh, how it pains me!)

2.) Hometown - I'm from Arlington Heights, Illinois, aka Suburbia, USA. He's from Helenville, Wisconsin, population 300. Need I say more?

3.) Personality - I'm high strung, including temper tantrums when my eggs don't turn out right. He's laid back, including dirty closets and requests to refrain from egg tantrums.

4.) Family - I'm adopted; don't look like anyone I know. He's home grown. (Your term will be famous, Mom!) And he looks like his mom and sisters.

5.) Reputation - I'm a nerd. A great Friday night used to include Lysol Tub and Tile Cleaner and a Muppet Movie. He's a partier. While different now, a great Friday night used to include beer, booze, and babes.

I made a promise to myself that I would NOT get (too) political in this blog. After the 2004 election, aka the dagger in my back, Nathan and I decided it would be best to simply not discuss politics. With that said, I will do my best to explain. First, when Nathan and I met, I was un-political in the historically political town of Madison, Wisconsin. And then I became a social worker. That in itself should suffice. While our pre-marital counselor would describe our heated debates as "intellectual intimacy," they usually ended with a knot in my stomach, disappointed shaking heads on both sides, and no sex before bed. Why let a marriage suffer? I mean, I can't blame him. He's a veteran for cripes sake. Besides, when it comes down to it, we have the same core values. We believe in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness...I just think some people have less of a chance at those things because of social barriers created by the capitalistic and patriarchal nature of American culture. (I just couldn't resist.) Again, the importance of reframing; I would much rather have a partner who at least took the time to think about such matters as opposed to one who had no clue what occurred in our country. Of course, every now and then we scuffle, but now when it seems to be heading toward stomach knots, I quickly change the subject with a clever question to redirect him such as, "When do you think Brett Favre is doing right now?"

In regards to our upbringing, we differ there, too, but in truth, it's really not that different at all. As previously stated, I grew up in Arlington Heights, IL, a suburb of my kind of town, Chicago. 80,000 people strong with a gas station, Target, mall, and chain restaurant within five minutes of any home. For the first twelve years of his life, Nathan grew up in Waukesha, WI, a suburb of Milwaukee similar to that of Arlington Heights. But when his mom remarried, his stepdad shipped them out to the Pridelands, aka Mike and Dawn's Deer Haven, a 125 acre plot of land surrounded by farms, picket fences, and woods. He even has a "crick" in his backyard. And that is where the fun stories come in.

I remember our first trip out to the Deer Haven vividly. In July, things were swiftly becoming serious between us. We went from Nathan and Maggie to Nathan-and-Maggie very quickly. He had met my fam at the semi-annual Fitzgerald Family Reunion earlier that month. (Poor Nathan. The word got out that he was going to pick me up from Lake Lawn Lodge, the party place, to bring as his date to a wedding. No joke, by the time he got there, every female aunt, cousin, and sister was lined up to check out this guy.) Back to the Deer Haven. By the fall, it just seemed right for him to bring me home, too. We hopped in his car, which I affectionately referred to as the Tic Tac due to its sea foam green hue, and began the trek through the lush rolling hills and farmland of Lake Country in Wisconsin. Now, evidently Nathan took the most "bumble route" he could to see how I would react. Of course, I failed to vocalize any of the thoughts racing through my mind, such as:

1.) People really live out here?

2.) Are there places more bumble than this?

3.) What am I getting myself into?

Instead, when we arrived at the Deer Haven, I commented on how beautiful the land was. Enter one of his younger sisters. A simple and understated strikingly beautiful young woman...sporting protective goggles while holding a whooshing weed whacker. In my Suburbia USA mind, I thought, "Don't you hire people to do that?"

And the fun stories do not possibly stop there. By the fall, he had met my whole fam damnly, but I had only met one of his sisters. Back to the Deer Haven we went. This time, I met his mom, his older sister, the younger sister again, and his itty bitty sister, too. His stepdad was on a hunting trip in some far off exotic place. I didn't know what to wear. After the Weed Whacking Incident, I didn't want to be too dressy and appear pretentious. But I didn't want to be too casual and appear clueless either. I decided on a turquoise halter top, khaki shorts, and sandals. For the record, I was told we would go out to dinner at a casual place. Not so much.

Now, Nathan is a rough and tumble kind of guy. He chews. He drinks beer. He's loud. I guess I just figured his mom would be kind of rough and tumble, too. Maybe would even have a piece of hay coming out of her mouth with her hands in the pockets of her overalls. Boy, was I wrong. When we arrived at the Deer Haven we took the back stairs of the deck up into the kitchen where I was greeted by all the women in his life...it was payback from the Fitzgerald Family Reunion, I suppose. The second I met my now mother-in-law, I saw the same twinkle in her eye that I was starting to love in Nathan's. His older and very pregnant sister sat at the table eating tortilla chips -- my kind of woman. The younger sister did not have a weed whacker this time. And his itty bitty sister, who now has boobs and boyfriends, was seven. All rather soft spoken, at least more so than my family. The kind of family that plays board games and cards together, goes fishing and hunting, that kind of thing. So we all talked and after a bit, it was time for dinner. My mother-in-law went to change and came out in a cute seersucker white jacket and skirt. Worried about my now apparent poor choice in clothes, I asked where we were eating. Oh, just the supper club. For those of you from Suburbia USA like me, supper clubs are nice. That was the first time I got the womanly "I am going to kill you" thoughts toward Nathan. Again, for the record, I was told casual.

Now let's contrast with my family. To begin, my dad is an orthopedic surgeon, about as far off from chiropractor as you can get. (Nathan's stepdad is a chiropractor, too.) I am one of four kids, two boys, two girls. All rather boisterous. We grew up in a lovely four bedroom home on about a quarter of an acre. We attended private grade school, college prep high school, and ginormous malls. Instead of playing board games, our family, well -- didn't. Think ADD everywhere you turn. Instead of hunting and fishing, we vacationed in Hilton Head and looked at fish. Nevertheless, our families did have two big things in common. Both of our dads have a low tolerance for fools. A great trait Nathan and I have thus acquired. And if there was a contest for the Best Mom Ever, Nathan and I would spend the rest of our lives arguing about which one of our moms would win.

So we have small town meets city. You must be asking, "How do you do it, Maggie?" Well, the answer is simple. You just do. You embrace each other's differences and realize that your children will have the best of both worlds. One grandma will tell you to put your shoes by the door in case something exciting happens in the middle of the night and you have to go quickly, just like my grandma did and my mom will do. And another grandma who will play cards with you all night and share her wisdom about life, just like his grandma did and his mom will do. One grandpa who can keep them healthy with regular chiropractic care, and another to call when that just doesn't do the trick. One family who they will go to Cubs games with, shopping on Michigan Avenue with, and have breakfast at Panera on Sundays. Another who will teach them how to rig up a fishing pole, shoot a rifle, and have home-cooked breakfast on weekends. What more could you ask for?

In a lot of ways, Nathan and I are cut from the same cloth. We are both rather intelligent (i.e Doctor of Chiropractic and Master of Social Work). And according to Nathan, we are both "good lookin'." We have the same sense of humor. We love The Beatles. We love to read. We both want to learn as much as we can during our lifetime, be all we can be, all that stuff. And above all, we appropriately adapt to whatever seems right, be it independence, dependence, and most importantly, interdependence.

Oh, but the differences persist. I am, to the best of my abilities, a perfectionist. I like to be ontime, in fact, even early. I like things in order, even my dishtowles, which are arranged by color. I like lists; they help me to get as much done in a day as possible. I like things to match, so much so that when Nathan gave me a beautiful marquisite cross for my birthday one year, I had to go and buy a matching ring so I had something to go with it. I like symmetry and balance; every item in our home has its place, even my pile of clothes that sits to the right of our bedroom door (never for too long, by the way).

Nathan is, to the best of his abilities, a carefree guy. Time? Overrated. He likes to leave for the movies seven minutes before it starts, even though it's a ten minute drive. Order? Ha! His closet is a mound of garments. Don't ask me what's clean or dirty. Lists? Give me a break. He JUST started using a planner this year. Matching? Well, I mean, the guy isn't color blind, but I don't think he has ever gone out of his way to buy a pair of pants to coordinate with any shirts I've given him. Symmetry and balance? Just plain not interested.

Again, you must be asking, "How do you do it, Maggie?" Again, you just do. You embrace each other's differences...or more accurately, make fun of them and hide them. Time? We do somehow manage to make it on time just when the actual movie begins; who needs previews anyways? Order? I keep my stuff how I like it. The salvation here: living room furniture with drawers and closets with doors. If I can't see it, it doesn't bug me. Nathan has about a half dozen messy drawers that I simply don't deal with. Problem solved. Lists? I guess he has them in his head. I have mine on paper. So far, no harm, no foul. Matching? Since he could care less about it, it's not much of a problem. Symmetry and balance? Well here, he just likes to play games. I realize this odd obsession is ridiculous, that most people don't feel anxious if their candles are not spaced almost exactly evenly apart. Nathan, my hilarious husband, gets his jollies by blatantly shifting items from their designated posts. I must reluctantly admit, whenever I find a household soldier out of line, I giggle at his childishness and at myself a bit, too.

All in all, the Omick's are apples and oranges. But when you combine the two, what you get is a delectable and unique fruit. One that is not too sweet nor too sour. Not too round or too top heavy. Instead, what results is a tangy and wholesome treat, rich in differences that together create uncommon and complementary, fiery and organic produce. I have found that the key to a healthy relationship is simple: grow your own orangeapples.