It was December when we unexpectedly received a night off. My parents were visiting from the West Coast, and in the afternoon, my mom texted me at work, “Don’t rush home. Spend time with your partner. Go out for drinks. Look into each other’s eyes.” I felt grateful and assured her we’d take her advice. It brought back memories of the early days after our first child arrived. I was infatuated, spending all my time nursing and watching her grow. I still recall when my mom placed a sandwich on my chair and whispered, “Leave some for Mark.” Those words echoed in my mind throughout our 12 years together, especially during dry spells when he would ask, “What about us? When do we become a priority?”
I told Mark about our night off, and he looked pleasantly surprised. “Really? What do you want to do?” Instead of excitement, I felt fatigue and a strange sense of disappointment. We exchanged glances, both of us hesitant, as we navigated the snowy parking lot after leaving the office.
We decided on a new restaurant nearby. As we climbed into the truck, I wondered aloud, “Do you think they’ll take us without a reservation?” Mark shrugged, one hand on the wheel, “We’ll never know unless we try.” I envied his ability to switch into date mode effortlessly.
As NPR played softly in the background, we arrived at the restaurant—a grand old mansion with a wraparound porch. I thought about our own porch, which still had ice on the stairs, and the two small trees in our backyard that needed to be cleared after the ice storm. The trampoline was buried under snow.
Mark gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading inside to check for a table, while I stood outside, nervous about being turned away. A few minutes later, he texted to say we were in. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as I walked up the path.
Inside, the restaurant was uncomfortably crowded; people brushed against me as I sat in the middle of the room. From above, it might have looked like a chaotic pinball machine, with tables positioned for maximum collision.
Mark appeared content across from me, which only heightened my unease. Shifting my focus felt awkward, and I found myself wondering about our daughters at home. A list of unfinished tasks bombarded my mind:
- The laundry is still unfolded.
- I need to locate that Frozen pajama top for Polar Express day.
- I left the neighbor’s mail on the counter again.
- Did I put the creamer away?
“Can I get you started with something to drink?” our waitress asked, breaking my train of thought. Mark quickly pointed to the menu, “We’ll have a bottle of this sauvignon blanc.” He turned to me with a big smile, “How does that sound, babe?” Caught off guard, I nodded, “Yes, that sounds great.” She promised to be right back.
I avoided Mark’s gaze, feeling unprepared to meet his eager expression. How did we reach this point? How could being cherished feel like just another task?
The relentless nature of vulnerability in both parenting and marriage often catches me off guard. Every day presents new challenges, and I struggle to stretch my energy to meet everyone’s expectations. Mean girls, puberty, Common Core math, balancing adult time with downtime—all of it can feel like trying to orchestrate a multi-course meal, each dish needing precise timing and care. If my marriage were a soufflé, it would have collapsed long ago.
I almost brought up work, but swallowed the urge. Talking about work on a date is a no-go.
“Hey,” Mark leaned in, “You okay?” His blue eyes searched my face. I forced a smile, “Yep.”
He tilted his head, knowing me well enough to sense when I was glossing over something. I shifted in my seat, determined to open up. Our meals arrived shortly after the wine, and we quickly dug in. Gradually, the noise around us faded, and I found myself captivated by his eyes and hands.
When he practices guitar, I love watching his fingers dance across the fretboard, usually while I’m cozied up on the couch after the kids are asleep. It takes me back to that summer in 1999, when his forehead was sun-kissed, and he smelled like clover. I’d kiss his forehead, and we’d share smiles, young and flirty again, even as the years have passed. He often teases me about my tooth that sometimes gets caught on my lip, a detail only he seems to notice, and it still gives me butterflies.
“Ready?” he asked, and I nodded. As we left the restaurant, he asked, “What’s next?” Suddenly, I realized how much I wanted to spend time with him. Those moments when I’m not judging myself as a mom or feeling overwhelmed by our schedule are rare. Desire blossomed within me, reminding me that beneath the wrinkles of my 40s and layers of exhaustion, I am still here.
“How about shooting pool?” I suggested. He grinned, knowing how much I enjoyed it. Leaning over the table with a cue stick, I’d shift from feeling tense to playful in an instant.
I watched him chalk his cue, his sleeves pulled back slightly. With half my mind focused on the table and the other half on letting go, I relaxed my shoulders. Forget the possibility of making a mistake. Sometimes the balls sink, and if you’re lucky, the flutters return.
I’ve often let the belief that there are more urgent matters than expressing love overshadow my feelings. Perhaps I always thought love should come easily. However, true love and a strong marriage require seeing your opportunities and trusting your instincts to find the sweet spot.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the journey of nurturing our relationship amidst the busyness of life is ongoing, but it’s essential to prioritize those moments together. If you’re looking for guidance on home insemination, check out this excellent resource from American Pregnancy. Additionally, for those interested in self-insemination techniques, visit Intracervical Insemination for expert insights. You can also explore our other blog post about the at-home insemination kit to learn more about this topic.