As my older daughter gets close to going away to college, and my younger one becomes more and more independent, it occurs to me that there is a big part of me that my husband is unaware of.
When you have kids, you must revolve your life around said children for years and years, so many years in fact that when you look back, you can’t remember what your life was life before they came into your care.
And then, if you are lucky, you get some well-earned alone time with your spouse. Hopefully at this point, you are still talking with your spouse, and your communication hasn’t been downgraded to talking only about your jobs, your family in its many forms, and food. Hopefully there is still room to talk about dreams and faith.
When people get married, they might have that time together. Time where they really get to know one another, time to travel together before you get too tied up in responsibilities. However, much of the time, you don’t even get that. One or more of the spouses in question come with a child already in tow, and they fall in love, get married, and begin a happy life together.
But since you never had that ALONE time together, doesn’t it stand that there is a whole independent section of you that your spouse doesn’t know? The you without kids?
Before I got married the first time, I was quirky and spontaneous. I went into my second marriage with a four year old daughter (who is now graduated from high school). We’ve never really been alone except for carefully calculated chunks of time. It’s one thing to say, “well, someday the kids’ll be gone and we’ll have plenty of time together,” and another to actually HAVE it.
Our first alone experience came last summer. Child #1 was at band camp, and Child #2 was visiting my parents 6 states away. We had a whole week in which to do whatever we wanted. I don’t think we did a whole lot of anything that week. I do remember having a clean house that didn’t get messed up while we were at work (I’m still looking forward to that perk). And TV. Lots of it.
Last weekend, my kids were both gone and I was seized with the desire to drive to the beach and sit by the lake. Read. Get some vitamin D. Maybe swim a little. My kids were gone. Hubby was ensconced firmly in front of the TV. And I was determined.
“I’m going to the beach. You want to come?”
“The beach? What for?”
Really? “I just want to go to the beach.” At this point, I start gathering a beach chair, the umbrella. “I’m going with you or without you. Do you want to come?”
It took some hemming and hawing on his part, but he did come with me, and we ended up having an extremely pleasant day. Lake Huron was way cold, but the sun was out, and it wasn’t crowded.
Later on, he stated that he wasn’t used to being spontaneous, that he was a planner. But that he was glad he came.
Writing Splashes 