It’s strange how you can miss someone that you see everyday.
Every evening we sit across the table from each other and (try) to discuss our day, while urging H to eat more and C and L to wait just one more second for mommy or daddy to finish eating. Then it’s off to the upstairs and the hours long bedtime routine. By the time all the babes are down I’m ready to go down too. So I tuck into bed with my book, while my husband heads downstairs to work or watch TV.
“I love you,” whispered as he crawls into bed a few hours later. “I love you, too.”
That’s about it for weekdays.
Weekends can be better depending on H’s activities and the babies’ nap schedule. Sometimes we spend nearly the whole day together. But there is always a meal to be made (or cleaned up after), a child to comfort or put down for nap, a load of laundry to wash, a dog to be walked. All of these little things add up to our lives as parents, leaving little time for us to be just us.
Admittedly we are just now coming out of the newborn fog. Things should improve as the babies continue to grow, sleep better and become more self sufficient. But there will always be three kids and only two of us. Outnumbered and outgunned. Our marriage is vulnerable, there’s no denying it.
But I am willing to fight. We have to fight. Because we are the heart of our family. We have to make it. And I think we will. Because I know that I miss you and you miss me and for now missing each other is what’s holding us together.