It is my belief that couples considering marriage should go through some sort of preliminary test to see if they are capable of handling the tough stuff that will come along at some point.  Everybody loves love.  But, unfortunately, the real deal isn’t like a romance novel.  So my thoughts are, have the newly engaged build something together, literally.

Last winter my husband Andy and I decided to give up our storage space and leave our camper outside to endure the harsh winter.  We figured due to the rising cost of storing the beast it may be wiser to keep the camper at our lake property and eventually build a shelter for it.

The first winter, Andy was anxious.  Every time we had news of snow accumulating in that area, he envisioned the camper’s roof caving in.  ‘Eventually’ was no longer an option.

“It shouldn’t be too hard to build?!”  I said, trying to assure myself that we could do this.

“Naw,” he answered with confidence.

With the building permit approved, Andy started the task of digging the holes for the posts.

“You need to dig down at least 4 feet,” the lumber store attendant warned us.  Anyone who lived in northern Wisconsin knew the winter frost was destructive.  “I’d go at least 5 feet if you can.”

When 3 feet was the deepest Andy dug before hitting rock and roots the size of tree trunks, I knew we were in serious trouble.

“F*@& it! It’s good enough!” Andy spouted off, throwing the shovel.

Lesson #1 It’s not always necessary to offer your opinion.

Eventually it was a chainsaw, a pry bar that weighed half my weight, and a testosterone motivated attitude that got the four corner holes dug the mandatory 4 feet.

The following Friday, Andy dropped our trailer at the local lumber supply company so they could load up our order.  When we picked it up that evening, the treated 18’-6×6 posts barely fit the length.  The hefty 20’ 2X10s and 16’ 2X10s were stacked neatly next to the 6x6s.  The pile of 8’ 2X4s looked insignificant by comparison.  Andy rearranged the 30 bags of concrete mix over the lumber to work as paperweights for the 45 miles to transport.

Saturday morning, I got a little grumpy when my coffee-time was interrupted by the sound of the neighbor’s truck firing up.

Jim was a miner from the days of old.  The first time we met him, he tried to scare us away.  He warned us of bears that had no fear of mankind and spoke of despicable humans who took advantage of nice people like us.   He softened up over time, after watching us work hard to improve our property.  He turned into more of a tip giver, always offering an easier way to get the job done.

When Jim pulled into our driveway, I figured it was time to suck it up.  We had work to do and I was optimistic that Jim had some experience with building oversized pavilion-type structures.

Lesson #2 Have a mediation counselor available at all times.

After sharing the morning pleasantries, Andy directed me to help unload the first post, “Grab that end.”

When I couldn’t budge the board, Jim shook his head.

“Let me give you a hand with that.”  When I stepped in center board to assist, Jim suggested, “It would be better for you to stand back.  Let us get this.”

Staying out of the way was how I thought I was helping.  Until the boys needed a third hand, and I was the only option.

“Get over here!”  Andy ordered, “You’re going to have to help with this!”

Keeping a 200 pound, 18’ vertical post level, while support braces were set, would be our marriage’s first test of the day.  It was decided quickly that I wasn’t capable of drilling fast enough or straight enough.  Andy grabbed the drill out of my hand.  Jim and I clutched onto the swaying post with levels.  I did my best to keep the all-important corner post, steady and straight.

Lesson #3 Speak to each other in ways that are mutually respectful.

If this was a romance novel, Andy would have said, “honey, can you try and place your hands here?  The post is swaying and I can’t attach the braces like that.”

I would have answered, “Oh babe, I can’t.  You see I am standing at the low end of the post so I’m already at a disadvantage.  I’m 9 inches shorter than you, remember?”

We’d share a giggle.  A steamy kiss.

In reality, it went like this . . .

Andy boomed. “Put your f*#$ing hands . . . Right! HERE!”

“I can’t!”  I screamed back, picturing a bar of soap jammed down his throat.

Thank goodness for Lesson #2.

“Hold on Andy, let us get a better grip here,” Jimmy said, guiding me where I should stand for a better grip.

The first post was in.

Lesson #4 Keep your sense of humor.

I smiled and stated, “I don’t know what you’d do without me.”

I busied myself with something I could do.  I had learned to run the wood splitter the week before, so I was excited to get to work on the log pile on our next lot over.  I had myself a system.  I backed up the UTV next to the splitter.  I lifted logs the size of my torso onto the splitter and stacked the fresh cut firewood directly into the box.  When I had it stocked full, I drove the UTV down to the camp and stacked the firewood into neat 4’ high piles.

I assisted with the rest of the corner posts when my help was needed, I served lunch.  I offered water, coffee, and beer.  It was going great, until it came time for the cement.

I was busy doing my thing when Andy yelled my name and spouted off an order, “Bring the UTV down here!”

Lesson #5 Marriage is a team effort.

I looked at the neatly stacked pile in the back of the UTV and thought about my next move.

In the novel, my husband would have sauntered over to where I was working and politely requested the use of the UTV.

I would have wiped the sweat from his brow with my apron, while he insisted that he unload the wood, revealing a bare chest and muscular arms.

But, no.

Lesson #6 Work together to find mutually acceptable solutions.

I decided to quick create a new 4’ high stack up on the hill.  I was working as fast as I could when Andy bellered even louder, “Doris!  GET THAT UTV DOWN HERE NOW!!”

So that became the last thing I was going to do.

“Park it right there!” Andy ordered when I puttered toward him ten minutes later.  “I’m getting tired of hauling these bags by hand.”

Lesson #7 Don’t expect your spouse to be perfect.

Each bag of cement weighed 60 pounds.  There were 29 on the truck that still needed to be hauled 50’ to the work site.  I felt bad when I watched Andy stagger through the brush.  I parked the UTV next to the truck, wishing I could do something to ease his burden.

While building our foundation, my husband and I sometimes forgot about what was really important.  But with each post we set, we weathered our stormy conditions, and our marriage became stronger. Before the cement dried, I scribed our names inside a heart.  Our hypothetical happily-ever-after story, literally, written in stone.