If it were just the two of us, I would surprise you with a trip to the Greek islands. I have always wanted to take you there. We could spend all day up to our necks in transparent, blue-green water, eat the most delicious tomatoes in the world and stay out late walking the streets with a glass of wine in hand.
If it were just the two of us, we could spend a fall weekend in Ann Arbor surrounded by the changing leaves and the unmistakable sights and sounds of college football. We would get up early and head to the golf course to tailgate, even if it’s a night game, because who cares? What else would we have to do?
If it were just the two of us, I would be training for Ironmans and you would be the world’s next ninja warrior.
If it were just the two of us, I have a feeling we would sleep more, argue less and spend more money on some of those things on our “want” list.
If it were just the two of us, our house would be cleaner. So much cleaner. There wouldn’t be applesauce on the walls or tiny handprints all over the glass sliding back door.
If it were just the two of us, we wouldn’t have to take turns sleeping in, because we could both sleep as long as we want to. Did you hear me? Sleep as long as we want to. We could drag the mattress in front of the TV and spend the whole day watching our favorite shows “in bed” like we did when we lived in that tiny apartment.
If it were just the two of us, we could go to the beach and read a book. Imagine just sitting on the beach with a book in one hand and a cold drink in the other, and no sounds except the crashing waves.
My love, it is not just the two of us anymore.
The two of us have multiplied. We have doubled. We two people have made two people, and there is no turning back.
The Greek islands will have to wait, and our vacations will not be relaxing for some time to come. I will continue to experience guilt over the condition of our home, and you will have to tell the ninja warrior folks that it will be a few years until you can join their ranks.
While there are times I long for the days gone by when you and I could focus on just being us, the truth is that I love that it’s not just the two of us.
If it were just the two of us, I would feel incomplete. I didn’t always that know I wanted children, but by the time I figured it out, my arms were aching to hold a baby.
If it were just the two of us, I wouldn’t have a brain full of the important stuff, like dinosaur name pronunciation, train table assembly or cloth diapering techniques.
If it were just the two of us, I wouldn’t have experienced some of the best things that life has to offer, like feeling my heart grow as my family grows.
One day, which will come sooner than we think, it will be just the two of us again and we will long for the time when our house was louder and messier (or so I am told). We will peer into empty bedrooms where our little miracles once slept, and we will wonder how they grew up so fast.
When it is just the two of us again, I hope we look back on this time and remember how difficult it was. I don’t want us to be the people who forget how hard it is to be parents.
When it is just the two of us again, I hope we can tap into a reserve of memories that remind us how their little legs wobbled and how their big eyes looked when they filled with tears.
When it is just the two of us again, I hope we can fondly recall these early parenting years as some of the best of our lives.
And, of course, when it is just the two of us again, I’m taking you to Greece.