I suspect my partner may have narcolepsy. His talent for dozing off the moment he gets comfortable is both astonishing and exasperating. It’s not just a minor annoyance in our relationship; it often makes me want to grab him by the shoulders with my weary, frustrated hands and shake him. Hard. I struggle to fall asleep, and when I finally do, I’m almost immediately jolted awake—either by his snoring or the kids.
Just the other day, I was sharing my thoughts with some friends and accidentally blurted out, “I think my husband has necrophilia.” I really need more sleep!
I adore my husband and genuinely want to spend quality time with him—yes, even intimacy. But our little ones are always around, disrupting our conversations and our private moments, squeezing their tiny bodies between us. It’s overwhelming to realize how much has transformed since we became parents and how challenging it is to keep our relationship thriving.
At times, I feel like yelling, “F*** THIS!” and taking a pair of scissors to a gallon of milk, letting it explode all over the kitchen, leaving it for him to find. I’d greet him at the door with a kiss and say, “I did nothing today but turn our home into a dairy disaster. And by the way, everyone has diarrhea. We’re out of diapers, bread, and of course… milk. See you in a week.”
Recently, I expressed that my emotional needs weren’t being met, and before I knew it, I was knee-deep in a conversation about my feelings before 8 a.m. It felt like a scene straight out of a 1950s sitcom—me in my nightgown, angrily unloading the dishwasher, while he stood there in his work clothes, staring at me with his ‘clueless man’ look.
As we attempted to discuss my feelings, I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to express the depths of my soul before he left for work. Meanwhile, our oldest kids were in the bathroom stuffing latex balloons down the drains. Ah, the joys of marriage and parenthood!
I frequently find myself reminiscing about the days when we were still trying to impress each other. When I would spend hours getting ready and he’d surprise me with flowers or tickets to a show. The reality of adulthood—budgeting, school supplies, and Crock Pot dinners—often feels devoid of romance. Or at least, that’s what I thought.
It was 5:45 p.m. on a Tuesday, and I stood at the sink pondering: Who in their right mind invented Hamburger Helper? It’s just a box of chemicals to which I’m supposed to add meat and water. Why are the kids screaming? Someone’s going to end up in the E.R. if they keep this up—”STOP RUNNING THROUGH THE HOUSE!”—And oh, here comes Robbie. Great, I look like a hot mess. What is this on my pants? Diaper cream? Just perfect.
With kids running wild, the TV blaring, and having not looked in a mirror in hours, my husband walked in, wrapped his arms around me, and gave me a kiss that made time stand still.
This life we’re building together? I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else, even with the occasional narcoleptic moments he has.
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In summary, while the challenges of parenthood can feel suffocating at times, the love shared between partners endures through the chaos. Embrace the imperfections, and find joy in the little moments.
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