I haven’t spoken to my husband in four years. No, we aren’t separated and he hasn’t gone missing. It’s just that we have toddlers, two of them.
Yes, I’m being rather facetious, but I know I am not the only person who feels this way with their spouse. Some days, okay, a lot of days we are two ships in the passing – roommates, survival associates, teammates; slapping each other on the butt as we move on to the next play. A day will pass and I’m not even sure if I’ve asked him how his day was or even given him a simple kiss and that’s pretty sad. I do know, however, that I have given my kids at least 100 kisses. Yikes! Something is wrong here.
Our days are full. He works full-time and I’m a stay at home Mom. Between my husband’s day of making important decisions and being professional, and my day of cooking, wiping butts, driving from place to place, and making sure my two sons don’t kill each other, we are just spent. With all of the daily chaos, I catch myself writing notes in my cell phone to remember to tell my husband, just because I know I will forget if I don’t.
Our conversations are basically pass-downs and sound like caveman talk, “School good. Knee, boo-boo. Eat food. No nap. Karate 4:00, picture day tomorrow.” These pass downs are all short and choppy because they usually include a kid screaming for our attention in the background. It’s like a small circus is going on every time my husband and I want to talk. And I mean, only when we want to talk. Before you say, “Control your children, lady!” We do, we do…chill-out, judgy judgerson, our little angel boys apparently have tag-teamed in a game they call, “Only Annoy Mama & Papa When They Talk To Each Other”, it’s rather cute (eye rolls).
Let’s talk about date night. We like to have a date night once a week at home. The kids go to sleep, we pop open a bottle of wine, listen to some great music, kick our heels up on the back porch, gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, hubby gets to first base, maybe second, then, BAM! The baby siren starts to sound through the baby monitor…wahhhhhh… Somehow those psychic, pint-sized, “penis partitions” know how to ruin a party every. single. time. How do they always know? Baffling.
Before you feel sorry for me, I must make it clear that we make it work. It’s life. It’s temporary, and honestly, we wouldn’t have it any other way. My husband and I make due in our own way by writing each other tiny little notes here and there, sending each other flirty little text messages that often end in, “that’s what she said” jokes. Nothing is hotter than when my husband comes home with a good bottle of wine and then goes outside to play with the kids for a bit while I can have a little silence, and sip wine while making dinner. This is real life, people.
These little beings that seem to currently rule our world won’t be little forever, and I can already see signs of my eldest being more and more independent. I’d like to think that we are spending quality time together as a family, building confident, well-rounded, individuals. These crazy moments are fleeting, and one day, when these boys of mine are out of the house and carrying on with their families of their own – what will be left? My husband and I. So, while we are tending to our seemingly needy spawn, we know deep down, and in the background of our story that we are what made this (we waited 10 years of marriage before having children), we are the foundation. A strong foundation that may crack a little, but we will remain soulmates, best friends, teammates in the end.