I am dating a really great guy. He is the sort of guy you marry. So much that sort of guy that I did, in 1990. But I haven't dated him since the early 90s. The day we had kids, we changed. We shifted our focus to our future and the kids we brought into the world and how we were going to make sure that we gave them the best life we could imagine.
We had been married about 4 years and thought at the beginning of 1995 that my genes and his would make a pretty incredible child. I became pregnant 20 seconds, possibly 21, after that conversation and on September 20, 1995, our lives as a couple ceased. We were joined by a beautiful child who quickly became the center of our universe and topic of all conversations we had going forward.
Thus began the motherhood journey. My life changed forever. I stretched my maternity leave out as long as possible under the guise of taking time to decide what would work, but the truth is, I wasn't going back to my job. I look back now and wonder. Maybe I could have, but at the time, it just seemed more trouble than it was worth.
Our lives had many many ups and downs over the past 20+ years of parenting. It's not necessary for me to recount all the times he and I didn't see eye to eye. But we stuck it out because we had a family to raise. You see, whether you are single or married, since our children were born, we suppressed our "romantic" (euphemism for sexy) sides the entire time we had children in the home. I realized this the other day because I didn't need to cover up "in case the kids walked in". Quite the opposite, in fact.
|Egg or boob? You decide.|
I was getting ready to make breakfast and had a dozen duck eggs. (Acquired during a catch-up-with-friends road trip). I showed my husband the eggs after I cracked them in a cup to point out the difference in both color and size. His reaction was typically male. He said very matter of factly, "They look like boobs."
What? My mind reeled. Had it been that long since he saw boobs that he confused them with duck eggs? There was only one logical solution. He needed to see boobs quickly to remedy his confusion. I quickly undressed and continued to make breakfast topless.
As silly as it sounds, the duck egg incident marked a playful moment in our rediscovering each other. I didn't worry that the kids would walk in and see me topless. In fact, I actually am imagining the horror they are likely to express and the embarrassment experienced that their mother was topless. Not only was I topless, I told the world about it. Or at least as many people as will read this post. (have fun with me... make a comment if you go this far so we can keep a running tally of how many folks know I cooked breakfast without a shirt).
My husband and I are dating and wooing each other again. It's pretty fabulous.