Part of the (insert sarcastic tone) fun of parenthood is realizing that your little one(s) don't want to exist without you... like ever... as in, full fledged velcro baby. It's cute, and it's hard.
The other evening, we watched the People interview of Colin Farrell, who was opening up about his son with Angelman Syndrome and the changes and adjustments that came from his son's needs. It hit both of us emotionally. We are so fortunate by how healthy Evie is. She currently has no significant health issues other than two very tiny holes in her heart- ASDs- that the docs say have no effect on her and will hopefully close on their own. Her pulmonary hypertension resolved within months of living here. She can eat anything and everything and we no longer have concerns of aspiration. Other than the developmental delays associated with her extra chromie, Evie is a healthy, happy, loving girl.
Rob and I have been married 17 years as of next month, and together 19 at the same time. We have gone through two deployments, owning three businesses, five college degrees, 8 moves over 4 states and across one ocean, a career-ending injury followed by massive career change, two babies, one terrifying first year with our Evie, and at least one dead washing machine (haha). Our marriage feels solid. As we worked through and healed from everything that could have torn us apart, I believe it is stronger than I ever thought possible.
As every parent of young kids can attest to, finding time for just the two of us is... well... challenging seems too weak a word. I think we've had three or four date nights since moving here. The biggest part of that is our sweet Evie. It takes her a long time to get comfortable with people. It's different than it was with Ben, too.
Our daughter started at an in-home daycare (which I'd once sworn I'd never do) about a year ago. It took months, 7 or 8 to be more precise, for her to get comfortable enough not to sob when we dropped her off. Her teacher is wonderful with her, sends us a lot of pictures and updates, asks questions if needed, and is sensitive to the few but present differences between what Evie may need versus her peers.
We went to Australia and New Zealand in July, gone for two weeks (not nearly long enough). It was an incredible trip and we're all hoping to go back! When we returned, Evie's daycare was closed another week and a couple of days. We made it work, as we always do when life happens. We know a young lady that has babysat for us a time or two before and I asked her to come for a few hours one day so I didn't have to cancel appointments. I'm self-employed, and just returned from vacation. No workie = no money. She arrived half an hour early to give Evie time to remember her and adjust. Then I had to go to my office (in-home). Evie lost it as soon as I walked away. She hard-sobbed the whole half hour I was in my office. My schedule had some unexpected changes on the part of my clients, the stars aligned, and I stepped out of my office and snuggled my very unhappy girl.
Once I was with her again, she stopped crying and started playing with our friend. She played and laughed and had fun, as long as I was there. If I even went into the kitchen she had to come with me. Rob and I have talked several times since then. I don't think I can do that to her again. It was awful for everyone involved. I sure hope it's a phase.
Though we haven't had many date nights since we've been here, we have had date days, or date mornings. Ben goes off to school, Evie goes to "school", and our days off align. We went to the beach earlier this week. Going to the beach without kids is weird. A good kind of weird! We got some sunshine, relaxed in the water, talked about future plans and goals and wouldn't it be great ifs. It was so nice. The beach was largely empty too, which is one of our favorite things about this island.
We have to make so many life adjustments when we have kids. One kid brings mind-blowing changes that no one adequately prepares you for. Even if they try, we don't listen. We cannot comprehend it either, until we experience it. Then the second comes along. She marches to her own drum. It's her world, and we're just living in it. We adjust more. We change as people. Her brother goes from being the one and only, to the best big brother in the world. So patient. So kind. Still wanting his own time and space, and we make time to celebrate him and make sure he gets to live his life with his cheering section present and loud. We change as a couple. We have to get even more creative as to how we spend our time, just the two of us. We've found ways, and will continue to do so. It's worth the effort. We are worth the effort. We forget sometimes. We get caught up in all the life things, the work things (though not as much as before), the parenting things. Then we recommit to us things. Oh hey! There you are. I loved you first.
