Last week we registered for our wedding. Which means, as I’m sure you all know, that we got to spend the better part of a day wandering through aisles of kitchenware and bedclothes with a scanner, zapping bar codes and watching our wish list fill up with stackable wine-racks and three-in-one avocado cutting/slicing/smashing tools (look out guacamole, here we come).
As the above photo might suggest, Shayne lost interest somewhere around bath towels and reached the point of peaceful protest by the time we’d made it to comforters.
Then we took a break to look at grills and their accompanying tools and he was back in the game.
We opted, in our registering adventure, to throw our lot in with Crate & Barrel and Target (I’m a Target addict. Really, it’s bad). Neither of us had specific stores we wanted to see personalized in our kitchen, but Crate & Barrel’s general kitchen-filling goodness and Target’s capacity to offer us nearly anything else we might need (I don’t think this is my bias speaking, but I’m not entirely sure) sounded like the perfect complementary couple, so we signed up and went to town.
It’s kind of a strange thing, registering. You go through the store and pick out all of these things that you want, and then you go home and remind yourself that none of them are currently actually yours – but that maybe someday they will be.
And then there’s the fact that you’re picking out items with this person that you know, love, and are going to marry in just a few months, yet you had no idea he would like those plates. And, honestly, you’re really not sure how you feel about those plates, and it’s clear that he isn’t sure how he feels about your plates but you’re both trying to be nice because you don’t really want to cause a ruckus in Crate & Barrel.
This may have actually happened. But we decided that debating about dishware wasn’t the best way to start our day of registry fun and moved onto something we knew we could agree on: stemware and knife sets. By the time we looped back around to dishes, we’d each made a few concessions as far as preference went, and he decided to give me the final call on plates.
That’s how it’s supposed to go, right? Conversation and compromise – even on the small things. A friend told me a while back, when Shayne and I had just started talking about getting married, that it really is the small things that matter. A kind word instead of a sarcastic comment, the genuine support of a new idea, the smile even when you don’t really feel like washing the dishes or playing Wii. Because the small things start small, but they can become gaping conflicts before you know it.
Enough relational philosophy. Did I mention that we have a set of Calphalon non-stick pans? Well, our registry does anyway. And someday, we might too.