My Husband's Family

We walk out the front door together, Nic and I. The door closes and the noise from inside is muffled. I take a sip of my coffee and try to breathe deep. It’s just another normal evening at his parents, our kids are inside enjoying the spotlight and all the love that is lavished on them. I turn to Nic and I can’t stop the tears from running down my face. I wish we were at my parents instead. We’ve been married for a handful of years, but still. This living far away from them is so hard. On a normal evening like tonight – eating supper, normal daily things happening, talking and laughing – I can’t help but wish that we could experience these moments with my family too.

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Our families have some similarities; both consist of many people and they have that together feeling. They are both a little bit, special shall we say. We have similar upbringings and the same beliefs. But they are also so different; different people and ideas, different ways of doing things. How can one not compare the new to the old? There were times when the new way wouldn’t meet the standards that I created in my mind. In my family, we did it this way.

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I hear a faint sound as I’m putting the last touches on the chocolate cheesecake, it sounds kind of like a squealing pig. I smile to myself because without even looking out the window, I know that my sister in laws have arrived for our sauna and game night. Sure enough, there they are in the yard – going crazy over Gus who is thoroughly soaking in the attention. Then they come through the front door, mumble-jumbling their way into the kitchen. In this moment, I am so thankful for them and all of their craziness.

Most of all, I am thankful that I was able to let go of that worn out measuring stick. That I got to know Nic’s family for themselves. I learned to relax a bit and enjoy their noise and chaos. The biggest thing that I learned though, is how deeply they love. They love my kids and I so completely. They accepted me into their family – I am a daughter, a part of the family – not just the girl who married their son.

They aren't simply my husband's family anymore - they are my family too.