It fascinates me the way childhood memories can bubble to the surface of my mind.

Today's came courtesy of separate texts I received from the mom and dad of one of my piano students.

Their daughter is an eighth grader, and although funny and entertaining, she's also been a substantial under-achiever recently when it's come to learning her recital piece. So far behind was she this past Tuesday, in fact, that I actually used my No Nonsense Teacher Voice as I explained that this was the week I'd set as the deadline for being Recital Ready.

I went on, "If you are not ready by next week, you'll be ineligible to perform in the Recital."

My little slacker's parents both work, and neither is home at 3:15 when she takes her lesson. So I sent them a group text explaining the situation, and here are their responses:

The Dad (an I.T. guy):
Understood. Thanks for letting us know. We'll take care of it.

The Mom (a Social Worker):
Ohhh, Shelley! I am so sorry you had to write this message to us. You're such a warm and encouraging person, this must have been very difficult for you.

We'll certainly be having a conversation with our daughter to explain that this is NOT acceptable.

Thank you for all you do. We honor your valuable work.

Their responses definitely infused some hilarity into the tableau for me. And it's what caused my childhood memories to bubble up.

My mother had a knack for being able to "bottom line" everything she saw, and she was never shy about sharing her assessments. Or very kind, either, I realize now in these times of such political correctness.

We'd be in a restaurant, and she'd see an unusual couple and remark, "Wow. They certainly saved two other marriages."

We'd follow her gaze to the couple being scrutinized and sigh. Caustic as her comment was, she'd bottom-lined it perfectly. With their matching kookiness and avant garde manner of dress, it seemed likely that the couple could have found Happily Ever After with only each other.

I gave that concept much thought as I matured and watched friends pair off with their life mates. But it took very little time to recognize how flawed my mother's theory was.

The couples who seemed like the metaphoric two-peas-in-a-pod, i.e. both quiet or both gregarious, both rule-breakers or rule-followers, never seemed to make it to the finish line together. Instead, they were finished being together around the time of the Seven Year Itch.

At the risk of sounding like the Dalai Lama, I think marriage needs to be like a seesaw, with each side taking turns getting lifted up while the other becomes a trusted anchor. It shouldn't be a tug-of-war, because it's never fun being the side that gets dragged into the mud.

But if we used my mother's method of assessing a successful relationship, my husband and I would have been relegated to the No Chance bin immediately. On the outside, we could not be less alike.

While he is a conservative dresser --greys, blacks, browns, navy-- I am the spokesmodel for Flashy "R" Us: RED! YELLOW! LIME GREEN! HATS! HIGH HEELS! LEOPARD! My daughter put it best when she was about six: "Wow, Mommy! I love your clothes! They're bright like the circus clowns we saw last weekend!"

And he's quiet, my husband. He speaks infrequently, always with a calm, gentle tone, exactly what one would expect from the accountant that he is.

I, on the other hand, am a teacher, so constant effervescent communication is my stock in trade. Perky, warm, and encouraging words comprise the entirety of my day. (Well, you know, unless someone isn't Recital Ready by the set deadline...)

What we do have in common, however, this quiet, understated man and I, is our sense of humor and that we handle all problems that arise with a fierce shoulder-to-shoulder approach. We always have each other's backs.

And that is what I see in my slacker student's parents: very different jobs and communication styles, but a joint approach to a problem. Like us, they, too, have been together two decades.

So for that reason, I have felt comfortable crossing their daughter's recital shortcomings off my Worry List. There is not one doubt in my mind that at her lesson next Tuesday, she will make us all very proud.