I bought a new dress yesterday afternoon. We ate on the deck after the kids were in bed, and at one point I went into the house and slipped it on. Braless, sleeveless, low cut. I wiggled my eyebrows at Steve and motioned towards the dress. Steve looked up from his phone and said, “What?”
Later, we went upstairs to bed. I put on a satin nightie that hugs all the right places. Steve rolled over and started snoring. I tossed and turned, stupid satin nightie getting all twisted around. My back got cold from the fan blowing on my bare skin. I huffed and sighed and flipped my pillow over until I got out of bed, dropped the nightie on the floor and put on an old tattered t-shirt. Crawled back into bed, where Steve opened his eyes, smiled at me, pulled me close and told me how much he loved me.
You’re so beautiful, he said to me.
Sometimes I wonder if time takes away the spice. The wild things we used to do, the long nights fueled by alcohol and loud music. The way we would just pick up and go camping. I didn’t worry then about when the toilet had been cleaned last or remembering to buy milk. We just did what we wanted.
Parenting takes it toll on a couple. But every once in a while, we get a day to ourselves. Like yesterday. We dropped the kids off at daycare and spent the day together. Swimming then lunch out. The driving range and an ice cream while we watched a movie. Then dinner on the deck with a glass or two of wine while the kids slept.
Our life isn’t carefree anymore, at all. And I look back on our childfree days with a lot of fondness. But through all the tests we’ve been put through (and we’re lucky because all of our tests have been blessings), at the end of the day when I’m falling asleep in a tattered t-shirt, he still pulls me close and rubs my leg. And I still want him to.