There's this photo of us that I love. It was taken maybe when we were still engaged or before that. I was wearing my favorite Aubrey Hepburn shirt, and you were wearing a baggy shirt. You didn't care for slim fit clothing then. We were smiling, looking at something. You were probably saying something funny, and I was just trying hard not to laugh, or to look cute.
That felt like ages ago. We looked so carefree. We were so carefree. Going into marriage, we never thought we'd have children so soon. Then we had our first child. And then another. And another.
We're in this season. This tumultuous season of raising small kids.
We're in the season of wiping butts, and of wiping tears. Of repeating words and fixing messes.
We're in the season of playing referee, of "teaching while having fun," of navigating parenting styles and learning how to discipline three unique individuals, and what all of these means for us as a family.
We're in the season of midnight snacks and Netflix and Chill are our kind of date nights.
Of being sandwiched and squished by three little people on the bed, and the only thing we can do is reach for each other's hand and say goodnight as we're careful not to wake the baby.
People will look at us, with our frazzled looks, stained shirts, furrowed brows and they will not think of us as couple goals. If they don't know any better, they might even think, "I'm never having kids!"
But while we're here, I just want you to know, there's nobody else I would want to be with in this season but you.
Nobody else I want to argue parenting styles with, play good cop-bad cop with.
At the end of a really long day, I look forward to rehashing everything our children did, with you. No hand I'd rather reach for in bed but yours.
Sometimes it feels as though (at least for me) our kids are all we have. That everything is about them. But you know what they say, "The days are long, but the years are short." Someday we'll hope that we're all they have and their lives only revolve around us.
We've been married for almost 10 years, and a big part of it, we've spent taking care of our children. Sometimes I wonder, some of the things we promised to do after we got married, we haven't gone around to doing yet. But then I remember that we're in this season, and even though it feels like forever, it is fleeting.
But as our children grow, we also grow with them. We grow as individuals, we grow as parents, and we grow as a couple. You've seen me turn from being a starry-eyed girl in my twenties to a striving mother of three in my thirties. And you've been so gracious to all the changes that happened. Change of status, change of address, change of plans, everything.
Some things haven't changed though. You still make me laugh with your awesome sense of humor, something that our kids got from you. My blood still boils with that unbelievable temper of yours. Something that I pray our children will not inherit. I'm still in awe of your passion, determination, and generosity.
Looking at us, I think we're still the same couple in that photo. We're still smiling, looking at the same thing together. You're still trying to make me laugh, but it's not about some silly thing anymore. We're staring at our cute little kids, probably wondering how our lives would be without them.
So we're in this season. This epic, exhausting, exhilarating season of being parents of little kids. And however long this stage of our life turns out to be, I'm glad that I'm in it with you.
That felt like ages ago. We looked so carefree. We were so carefree. Going into marriage, we never thought we'd have children so soon. Then we had our first child. And then another. And another.
We're in this season. This tumultuous season of raising small kids.
We're in the season of wiping butts, and of wiping tears. Of repeating words and fixing messes.
We're in the season of playing referee, of "teaching while having fun," of navigating parenting styles and learning how to discipline three unique individuals, and what all of these means for us as a family.
We're in the season of midnight snacks and Netflix and Chill are our kind of date nights.
Of being sandwiched and squished by three little people on the bed, and the only thing we can do is reach for each other's hand and say goodnight as we're careful not to wake the baby.
People will look at us, with our frazzled looks, stained shirts, furrowed brows and they will not think of us as couple goals. If they don't know any better, they might even think, "I'm never having kids!"
But while we're here, I just want you to know, there's nobody else I would want to be with in this season but you.
Nobody else I want to argue parenting styles with, play good cop-bad cop with.
At the end of a really long day, I look forward to rehashing everything our children did, with you. No hand I'd rather reach for in bed but yours.
Sometimes it feels as though (at least for me) our kids are all we have. That everything is about them. But you know what they say, "The days are long, but the years are short." Someday we'll hope that we're all they have and their lives only revolve around us.
We've been married for almost 10 years, and a big part of it, we've spent taking care of our children. Sometimes I wonder, some of the things we promised to do after we got married, we haven't gone around to doing yet. But then I remember that we're in this season, and even though it feels like forever, it is fleeting.
But as our children grow, we also grow with them. We grow as individuals, we grow as parents, and we grow as a couple. You've seen me turn from being a starry-eyed girl in my twenties to a striving mother of three in my thirties. And you've been so gracious to all the changes that happened. Change of status, change of address, change of plans, everything.
Some things haven't changed though. You still make me laugh with your awesome sense of humor, something that our kids got from you. My blood still boils with that unbelievable temper of yours. Something that I pray our children will not inherit. I'm still in awe of your passion, determination, and generosity.
Looking at us, I think we're still the same couple in that photo. We're still smiling, looking at the same thing together. You're still trying to make me laugh, but it's not about some silly thing anymore. We're staring at our cute little kids, probably wondering how our lives would be without them.
So we're in this season. This epic, exhausting, exhilarating season of being parents of little kids. And however long this stage of our life turns out to be, I'm glad that I'm in it with you.
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