Whoa. Before you think this is some raunchy post about my sex life, back. the. truck. up. That’s just not my style.
This is, however, a post about how relationships can sometimes go temporarily AWOL amid the craziness of kids and life and how we plan to bring it on home.
Step 1: Get a babysitter.
We haven’t had one in over two years, since our beloved Lily left. She was terrific. She was outgoing, personable, hard-working and most of all, she really seemed to love the kids. And they adored her. It sucked when she left. (I realize that it sort of sounds like I am talking about her posthumously, but she only left for college). So shortly after Lily abandoned us (just kidding, Lily. I know a higher education is a valuable commodity and we have finally forgiven you), we began once again to call upon Grammy to make the 2-hour trek from Rhode Island to watch the kids whenever an event came up. Obviously, the kids love when Grammy comes, and Grammy loves to see the kids. But it turns out to be an entire weekend event. Not fair, really. For anyone. But most of all for Grammy because due to the quaint size of our home (it’s not acceptable anymore to call your house “small;” It ruins its market value and makes your house feel bad), she is forced to sleep on the couch in our family/tv/playroom and is subject to extra early wake-up calls from grandchildren demanding Cheerios and peanut butter toast.
Not only that, but entrusting the kids only to Grammy really doesn’t allow for spontaneous dinner plans. (And just for the record, spontaneous in parents-speak means a few days of planning as opposed to weeks.)
We talked about getting a babysitter. A lot. But I just never did it. It always got pushed to the end of my endless to-do list. I never should have let it linger so long.
But a few weeks ago I went to a babysitter open house sponsored by the local Youth Services. It was sort of like speed-dating for childcare. The girls were there with their resumes and sweet smiles and I got a few minutes to ask them questions about themselves and feel out their personalities. I don’t know why, but it made me nervous, kind of like when I interview someone important for a news or feature story I’m writing. I tried to eavesdrop on some of the other parents’ conversations so I could use their questions, but then I began to feel like I was cheating on a test. So I just asked some standards: How would you handle a four-alarm fire? Are you a kleptomaniac? Do you like Nutella?
Anyway, I called one of the girls later and she and her mom came over to meet the kids. The kids seemed to like her. My older son was excited that she plays lacrosse and said she has a “good” name. My younger son kept bringing out different Lego creations to show off to her. And baby girl just sat on my lap and smiled. Hired.
Step 2: Realize there’s more to spending time together than watching episodes of Walking Dead on demand.
It’s not that we don’t want to spend time together. It’s just that we’re always so damned busy. And always so damned tired. (And we’re really into Walking Dead right now.) We’re rushing off to lacrosse or hockey or karate or meetings or the gym or some other obligation that takes away time for each other. There’s my writing. There’s Rich’s coaching. Rich tries to make sure he spends time with each of our kids before bed. And I try and make sure the kitchen doesn’t look like an episode of Hell’s Kitchen gone crazy at the end of the night. Once the kids are in bed and we realize Father Time has totally f*cked us over – again – about all we have the energy for is TV. Especially since our third child came along, our “together” time has mainly consisted of parking ourselves on the couch and watching television and drinking wine after the kids go to bed. Inevitably, one (or both) of us falls asleep, then we’ll wake up while the credits are rolling – all groggy and grumpy – and drag our asses to bed for a restless sleep during which 1, 2 or all 3 kids are sure to wake up at some point in the night.
The other night, we scheduled ourselves to just sit down and talk. I mean just to shoot the shit, we had to actually plan ahead for it. “No TV tonight,” we texted. “Just sitting down and talking.”
That’s when I realized that no matter how often I tell myself, “There’s always time,” time is quickly slipping through our fingers. I don’t want to wake up 17 years from now (yikes!), when our youngest is off to college, turn to Rich and say, “Who the F are you again?” By that time, he may not even be able to hear me say it, but the sentiment will still be there.
So now that we have a babysitter, we need to make sure we use her. Regularly. And shut off the TV (sometimes).
Step 3: Setting priorities
Yes. The house should be somewhat habitable. We should have food to eat, and some clean clothes to wear. We’ll still play board games with the kids. And take them to all their activities. And go to our meetings. And coach. And work on the next great American novel. And spend time with friends. All the things that are important to us make us better people, and therefore better parents. But these priorities often pit us against each other. Once all these things are done, there’s not much left but sleep (and Walking Dead). So something’s got to give. At least sometimes. I want to be old and gray and still whooping it up with my other half.
