Scene: Our Dinner Table
Daughter: “How do you know when you should marry someone?”
Son: “When you meet the right person, it’s like a spark. You have to take care of that spark until it grows into a flame and eventually a bonfire for your marriage. And the wick size matters, too. A small wick means the spark can fizzle out. Daddy’s wick is huge, and that keeps Mommy happy.”
He’s only ten, right?
Putting aside all the obvious wick jokes (and there are plenty), this conversation came after we shared how we got engaged at dinner. The kids were captivated by the story of how my partner chose my ring, planned the proposal, and how I enthusiastically said yes. It struck me that our children perceive “us” differently than I do.
Their understanding of us is shaped entirely by the present moment—me as the mom who drives them everywhere and their dad who supports our adventures. They don’t know us “P.P.”: Pre-Parenthood. My son even asked me if a Beach Boys song was something I listened to in college, making it clear they don’t know me well at all (no offense to the “I Listened to the Beach Boys in College” crowd).
There’s so much they don’t know about the P.P. “us.”
They’re unaware that during our first date back in 1995, while standing by the ocean, I looked into his striking blue eyes and felt a spark. In that moment, I realized that my previous relationships had led me to the man I’d spend my life with.
They don’t know that their father took me out for my 21st birthday celebration because my friends were, well, let’s just say they were not legally allowed to join (they were there, but in spirit, let’s say). The thought that their dad used to kindly ask me off the bar so we could head home would shock them (let’s keep that between us). And let’s not even mention the chaotic housewarming party I hosted at our first apartment…
They weren’t there when I walked down the aisle and saw tears streaming down his face as he managed to say, “You’re beautiful.” They’d probably chuckle to hear how we couldn’t stop laughing during the “for richer or poorer” part of our vows, especially since we had a grand total of $23 in our savings at the time (true story; we were grateful for every wedding gift!).
They have no idea that we spent countless hours sanding, painting, and nailing together as we turned our first house—bought with every penny we saved from our wedding—into our dream home. My kids don’t realize that I can operate a pneumatic nail gun with ease and that my spackling skills are top-notch.
They also missed the look of shock and joy on our faces when we discovered that little stick had two pink lines—marking the transition from “us” to “we.” Over time, that “us” has evolved into a busy, chaotic, and all-consuming “we.”
So many things remain unknown about the P.P. us. We visited Disney World three times before kids. Our cars had no French fries scattered across the floor. We were called by our first names by friends we saw every Friday night without fail. Endless little details about our lives before parenthood are lost to our children.
In today’s world, our children often define who we are. We, as couples and individuals, are shaped by their activities, achievements, and lives. It’s easy to forget who we were before parenting. It’s easy to forget the nights we danced on bars or spontaneous road trips taken with friends. It’s easy to overlook that WE WERE HERE FIRST.
While I don’t expect my children to know every story from my past (thank goodness, because some stories are best kept under wraps), I do try to share snippets of my life before them. It helps them understand who I am and how I became the domestic figure I am today.
In the midst of the hectic routine of parenting, when each day seems like a repeat of the last, looking into those same blue eyes across the dinner table reminds me of who I was and who I still am at heart.
Summary
This article reflects on the experiences and memories of life before children, highlighting the contrast between the lives of parents pre-parenthood and their current roles. The author shares personal anecdotes that illustrate the significant changes that come with having kids, reminding readers that while their identities may shift, their past experiences continue to shape who they are today.