Living Life Among the Adjustments

— March 8, 2020 —

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]n a few months, my wife and I will mark 11 years of marriage. That’s 4,015 days. A lot of living has happened in that span of time.

We completed our educational journeys (I finished grad school; my wife, law school.) We survived our Landlord Years, discovering all too late we had rented our condo and townhouse to troublesome tenants. We entered the Parent Hood in 2014 with the birth of our daughter, followed by the Apartment Adventure, in which we squeezed into a space that was way too snug for a family of three. In 2018, we stepped into the Happy Homeowner chapter of our lives, buying our first single-family home complete with a big backyard.

Along the way, I changed jobs three times; my wife, four; and our daughter started kindergarten.

That’s a lot of transition and with it a lot of acclimation to new schedules, new routines, and new responsibilities. I had not one strand of gray atop my head 11 years ago at the age of 34; at 45, I have flocks of them. (My fraternity brother once poked back, “At least you still have hair!”)

Many married folks I know have shared that the secret to making marriage work is learning to compromise. But I think it’s a bit more nuanced than that. Marriage entails making a never-ending series of adjustments to arrive at a mutually acceptable equilibrium. The Oxford Dictionary defines an adjustment as “the process of adapting or becoming used to a new situation.” Life requires this of everyone.

My wife started a new job a little over a month ago after a stint as a stay-at-home parent, a full-time job society continues to undervalue. I’m thrilled she found a role that aligns with the next phase of her career, but the change also triggered a new round of adjustments, both big and small.

Marriage entails making a never-ending series of adjustments to arrive at a mutually acceptable equilibrium.

On the big side, the issue was this: With both of us working full-time, who would be on hand for our daughter’s at-home therapy sessions for autism—four days a week? One job ago, this wasn’t an issue because my previous employer’s health insurance allowed the sessions to take place at a convenient location: my daughter’s daycare. Not anymore. An adjustment needed to be made.

With help from a close family friend and flexible work schedules from our employers, my wife and I arrived at a solution, but we’re still settling into this new routine. (A shout-out to the companies that allow their employees the flexibility to juggle work and life).

via GIPHYOn the small side, the questions were more mundane: How are we going to keep the house clean? (Cleaning service? Scheduled!). What to do about dinner? (Blue Apron meal service? Done!)

The latter are First World problems to be sure and our family is fortunate to have the resources to address these trivial frustrations that come with adulting. Still, it’s another adjustment, another tweak to our routine.

Reflecting on the last 11 years makes me think of “28 Thousand Days” by Alicia Keys. The song’s title is a reference to the average life span of 76 years:

There’s only twenty-eight thousand days
Who would you love, where would you go?
What would you celebrate?
I’m telling you that life’s too short to just throw it away
So have the time of your life, so have the time of your life
Hey, ey, ey
Hey, ey, ey

The reality is that you won’t have the time of your life for 28,000 days. You will have highs. You will have lows. You will have periods of stability and periods of upheaval. As a friend from college once said to me, “the blows keep coming.” For me, the “blows” are not always the gut punches, but the ever-blowing winds of change.

If you’re lucky, you and your partner will embrace it all, making adjustment after adjustment, redefining fear of change to F.E.A.R. (Face Everything and Recover) as an attitude of resilience.

At this moment, I’ve lived 16,425 days. If offered a chance to rework Keys’s lyrics, I’d replace “have the time of your life” with “make the most of your life.”

I’m telling you that life’s too short to just throw it away
So make the most of your life, so make the most of your life
Hey, ey, ey
Hey, ey, ey

I think that’s the point of it all: making the most of the time you have now.

Father on,