Before I got married, I had a naive expectation that changing my last name to Carter would merge my life with my partner, Alex, in a way that felt seamless. Little did I know, this union also meant embracing his family, and with that, a potential clash of traditions, preferences, and perspectives.
Marrying into a family can feel like embarking on a journey: you’ll discover new customs and experiences that can enrich your life while also confronting moments when you yearn for the comfort of the familiar. You might find yourself in a playful squabble with your partner, thinking, “I just want everything to stay as it was, but with you by my side.”
Looking back, I realize I was blissfully unaware of the complexities that awaited us. The first hint of this reality came when Alex’s family expressed their reluctance toward a non-religious wedding. I had envisioned a picturesque outdoor ceremony—think rustic barns, cozy quilts, twinkling lights, and wildflowers.
“I’d love an outdoor wedding,” I shared enthusiastically.
My future mother-in-law, a petite woman with a passion for floral arrangements and tradition, asked, “Wouldn’t you prefer a church setting?”
I shook my head. “No, I feel more connected to nature, and I don’t attend church.”
Her silence spoke volumes. I didn’t yet comprehend that “Don’t you want to…” often translates to “I wish you would consider…” While I’ve always been firm in my beliefs and choices, marriage can complicate that autonomy.
After we tied the knot and welcomed our kids, I decided to teach our daughters to use correct anatomical terms. I wanted them to feel empowered and informed. One day, my daughter Lily told Alex’s father, a gentle giant who works as a radiology tech, about a trip to the water park.
“We had a blast on the slides! It’s funny how your pee feels warm after swimming. Does it feel like that for you? Oh, and my vagina hurt for a couple of days afterward,” she chimed before running off.
He raised an eyebrow and mouthed the word “vagina.” “She calls it that?” he asked, visibly surprised.
“Of course. It’s the correct term,” I replied.
“Isn’t she a bit too young for that?” he inquired.
I felt defensive. “How can you be too young to know the names of your own body parts?”
His shrug suggested acceptance but also indicated that he wouldn’t make the same choices. I spent hours pondering how often our parenting decisions would be scrutinized. Spoiler alert: quite frequently—everything from minor health decisions to breastfeeding.
I come from a family that thrived on lively debates and travel, while Alex’s family leaned toward harmony and tradition. They cherished their gatherings, while my family preferred quietness. Our Thanksgivings were intimate affairs, often involving just my parents and me, with no family newsletters or photo updates.
In pop culture terms, Alex’s family was Hallmark; mine was Netflix.
Thanksgiving held significant importance for Alex’s mother, as did Christmas and Easter. Each holiday brought about lengthy discussions on food and timing. Over the years, she softened, but there remained an underlying tension that we weren’t doing enough or that we were somehow difficult.
On one occasion, she suggested we arrive for a holiday meal at 1 p.m.
“That’s right when the girls nap,” I pointed out to Alex. He agreed. We were still in the trenches of new parenting, solely focused on our family’s needs, while she was committed to her traditions.
It felt like a game of Battleship, each of us battling for our own maritime sovereignty—one ship sunk by nap time, the other by ceremonial expectations. Regardless of our arrival time, it always seemed we were late (“I hope the turkey hasn’t dried out”) or that what we brought was no longer needed (“I went ahead and made that”).
And then came the inevitable question: “Would you like seconds?”
“No, thank you,” I’d respond.
“Are you sure about the mashed potatoes? Another roll?”
I would shake my head, feeling a childish petulance rise within me. Shouldn’t I be able to enjoy just a small bite of everything? But then again, why should I?
Marriage, I suppose.
I often wish someone had prepared me for the family dynamics that come with marriage. It’s not our fault, but it is our responsibility.
We marry the traditions, the quirky aunts, and the family secrets, all while navigating the delicate balance between what was and what will be. We must master a new language and adapt to different customs.
Ultimately, happily ever after is about finding solace in your partner’s embrace, even amidst the chaos of blending families.
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In summary, marrying “the one” means you also marry their family, complete with traditions and expectations that may challenge your own. It’s a journey of adaptation and growth, requiring both partners to navigate through the complexities of family dynamics together.
Keyphrase: marrying into a family
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