Sometimes the world grows cold.
Even for the most prepared of parents, having a baby means never being quite prepared. It means spending most of your time caring for baby, and less and less time caring for each other (and on yourself, especially if you're a single parent). It means less adult intimacy and more baby poop.
Don't get me wrong – I love my baby B and Mama A. But before A + K = B there was only A + K = K + A and that equaled hot-as-a-firecracker-on-the-fourth-of-July love (as my Grandpa used to say, usually referring to his coffee, not his unending love of Grandma). We traveled the world, went out to dinner whenever we wanted, worked out whenever we wanted, watched whatever we wanted, read whatever we wanted, kept decorative but dangerous household items laying around wherever we wanted, took baths together whenever we wanted and had sex whenever (and wherever) we wanted. Date night occurred every week with passionate regularity.
We never wanted children and we were deemed selfish because of it. Evangelical philosophy aside, I'll never understand that one.
However, we changed our minds and the judgments of others turned into redemption and revelry. That's not why we had a child, to receive redemption. No, we did it because together we chose to have a child and start a family.
We're heading into month six with baby and for the most part we're doing great. But recently we hit a speed bump going to fast without watching the road signs.
Mama and I share all responsibilities including those with baby, and we're fortunate to both have jobs and a baby-care person during the week, but it's true that Mama gets most of the home baby care (and she has the breasts to prove it). Last weekend that didn't work out so well and we were both feeling our roles and responsibilities were skewed and underappreciated, especially me. I never thought I'd become the jealous husband/father of my own wife's time (and my own), but I did. All my mindful living and adult maturity was strong-armed by impotent-rage-man I used to be and I completely shut down. Just an angry knot on a rotting log fuming in a stinky bog. Mr. Butthead with bells on.
How attractive is that? Not very and I was pretty ashamed of my reaction. We worked it out though, because we always do (all work and no play makes for dull parents) – that's what true love is, and realized that we need to "make" more hot-as-a-firecracker-on-the-fourth-of-July-love time for each other again.
It's time for date night to burst from nothingness like a birthed star, this weekend to be exact (or date afternoon; it's the date part that counts). Poetically I've always referred to Amy as my sun and I her moon, but we have to realign our orbits since we now revolve around baby who solely depends on our gravities push and pull.
When God created baby, she eclipsed the sun and moon and then took a nap.
Sometimes the world makes time for us.
By the way, I just joined Dad-Blogs.com (http://dad-blogs.com/) and I'm glad I'm in the Fatherhood Friday mix!