When you’re married with children, it’s freaking hard to find alone time to spend together. The kids and their continuous needs inevitably take top priority. And trying to keep that spark alive isn’t the easiest task in the world when your spawns are always lurking over your shoulder, trying like hell to blow out the fire. Take, for instance, our anniversary. Now in a perfect soap opera world, my husband would’ve whisked me away for a romantic weekend on some remote tropical island to celebrate our 12 years of wedded bliss together, right? Unfortunately, though, we don’t live in the fictional town of Forks Wa, so there was certainly no whisking and absolutely nothing tropical about our monumental moment.
The night of our actual anniversary was unfortunately spent waiting for some travel weary college kids to come shelter at our house for the night. Dont get me wrong, I am SO glad that they stopped and took comfort at the Sousley Bed and Breakfast, I just wish it was any other night. On the flip side we used it to our advantage and cancelled the $6/ hour Babysitter and got some free babysitting out of them! (Woo HOO) We were able to sneak out after the kids were in bed and grab a bite to eat to celebrate 12 years, and even had < gasp! > an uninterrupted conversation! Naturally, though, this blissful state of mind was poo-pooed the very moment we stepped through the front door of our house and heard the free babysitting college kids negotiating with the little vampires upstairs who were supposed to have been asleep by then.
Real idyllic, huh? We were holding out hope that maybe, JUST MAYBE, we’d steal some time together after finally getting the kids to bed.
Regrettably, though, our children have decided to boycott sleep these days. Just when we think we have the all-clear, a little body pops up on the stairs, which is exactly what kind of scenario played out on the night of Nov 27. Somebody was hungry; somebody was thirsty; somebody had a sore throat; somebody was scared; somebody had to poop — on and freaking on until I literally started threatening alien abductions to anyone who dared get out of bed again. And wouldn’t you know that by the time we FINALLY heard the last peep outta the monsters, I glanced over to find my hubby sawing some serious logs. So much for romance.
I seriously think we may have to start hooking up in the car like a couple of teenagers in high school to avoid the inevitable interference from the shorties. So if the wheels are a rockin’, please, for the love, don’t come a knockin’!!!!
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