The Wan recently bought a new iron. A steam iron with optimal temperature technology. This iron has no volume control and a guarantee of no burns.
He was so persistent to get it and he won the argument with “so I won’t burn any more of your favourite tudungs”.
Today as he was ironing my top, he smugly said he irons more meticulously than many other ladies out there. To which I rebutted with, “but still not at my standard of quality”.
If I had still demand the same way and quality of how he irons, he doubt he would still be ironing my clothes & tudung. In fact, if I had demanded things be done the way I expect them to be done, he wouldn’t be much of a help anymore.
When I did my first laundry after the wedding, my MIL pointed out I shouldn’t hung the tees the way I did, I should hang the pants another way. I didn’t like that at all. I’ve been doing laundry since I was a child. And I hang clothes the way I like them to be hung. Why should I listen to someone whom I just knew? Right?
It hit me then. If I didn’t like to be told how I should do things, why would Wan like it instead?
There were habits I didn’t like – which I never had to deal with when living with sisters. But instead of telling him how things should be done, I showed him how I have things done. Over time, he picked up my style – but of course, he is not me. Things done by him are not as “perfect” as I would have done.
This is where compromise comes in.
Because I allowed him to do things the way he’s comfortable with, he enjoys doing them. We found our specialities around the house. He enjoys washing the dishes, I enjoy preparing the dishes. He enjoys ironing, I enjoy doing the laundry and folding them.
Compromise in marriage goes deep and far. But it starts with the littlest of things. Marriage is hard work but compromise makes it a little less hard.
First written on 29th July 2019