Last week marked our one year in America point, that is one whole year of adjusting, of mostly sharing one car, of living with my mother, and one year of painful learning processes.
I dare not speak for my husband, but I often wonder behind his stony Danish facade, what one year has been like for him. I know he hasn’t enjoyed sharing a house with mother, an experience soon to end, and I know that it hasn’t been all rainbows and cupcakes for him. From what I can tell, Americans seem to like him for a variety of reasons, but I think it is because we have Scandinavians on some sort of pedestal in our culture – we romanticize the bike riding, the long maternity leaves, the blond hair, the simple design, etc.
There have been some food adjustments, just like many foreigners, my husband complains about the lack of good bread and more particular to his area of the world, the lack of leverpøstej.
We’ve had some marital reevaluations in terms of me learning that I can’t expect other people to meet unrealistic goals I have for them – my husband is not some sort of perfect god-like man and if he were he certainly wouldn’t go for un-perfect me! I think that is what will help pull a marriage through, learning to accept the mess in the garage in return for your husband learning to accept that sometimes you leave the laundry go for too long or leave it in the dryer an extra day or two (or heavens forbid three).