I’m not sure how many of you are new parents (or experienced parents — I bow down to you) but if you are, you may nod your head in recognition of this second anniversary scenario:
After an early dinner out at a restaurant, probably our third solo date since having M, and a short visit to a lakeside park to admire the stars, we got back in the car and started in the direction of home. It was just after 8 p.m., I was incapable of stopping myself from yawning over and over, and we were debating whether we should go out for a drink just so we wouldn’t end up at home early enough that my dad would laugh at us.
“Most people aren’t even going OUT until 8 o’clock,” said Matt.
So that’s year two. We did end up going out for that drink but called it a night right after that — the baby actually was more awake than us when we got home.
Second anniversary car selfie — swanky.
I’m a believer in the idea of seasons of life (because this is how I remind myself that I won’t be exhausted forever) and our current season is one that is not particularly glamorous. That’s not to say that I don’t love it — but our couple time, which is admittedly not very frequent, is more centered around pajamas and Netflix than fancy clothes and cocktails.
So our second anniversary celebration wasn’t glitzy, but it was us. That’s what our whole year was like. Maybe it’s easy to feel like you’re in a fairytale romance when you’re still flying high in the newlywed season, but for us, our marriage and our romance drifts toward the practical side, these days. Love isn’t a bouquet of roses, it’s someone remembering to wash the towels.
In this case, it was a bouquet of flowers from which Matt instructed the clerk to remove every carnation because he knows his wife hates them.
It’s a bucket of ice cream in the freezer after a rough day. It’s the hilarity that is my husband picking out the baby’s outfits and explaining to me, in great detail and seriousness, why he chose that particular combination.
I’ve learned that whatever brand of romance we have, it won’t nurture itself and it requires some form of effort, even if that effort is as simple as agreeing to stay up a half hour later so we can talk and reconnect. Our second year was all about family — growing, welcoming, learning to adjust to the changes. I’m not sure what our third year will bring, but I’m excited to find out.