They always say once you have kids your life changes. Simple things like eating a hot meal, washing your hair, and having sex with the person who helped you create that kid – well it’s just going to have to wait.I started out thinking; we’ll do it when the baby sleeps. The only the problem with that plan is that when the kids are asleep, I wanted to go to sleep. I was exhausted, or I had other things to do like wash my hair, EAT, clean, the list goes on and on. The last thing I was thinking about is getting jiggy with your spouse.
Then the kids grew up, or at least old enough to take care of their needs. That’s when you enter into the next phase of parenting, the annoying kid phase.
For some unknown reason, I find myself at my “friskiest” on Sunday mornings. Maybe it’s because I’ve had a full day of pawning the kids off on D and can rest. Or perhaps it’s because I know we always keep the kids up late on Saturday night so they will sleep in Sunday morning. This move usually gives us enough time to enjoy ourselves in the morning without hearing the familiar tap on the bedroom door.
But not this morning, D’s hand was barely on my boob before the first knock on the door.
Colin: I’m hungry.
D rolled his eyes and gave me a “you gotta be kidding me” look. I told him to continue and told Colin to tell everyone to get started with their morning routine. I thought this would buy me some time. Four kids, 8 and under having to take turns in one bathroom to put toothpaste on the toothbrushes and brush their teeth to the timer, I had at least ten minutes. Yes, I knew my bathroom was going to be covered in strawberry flavored goodness from floor to ceiling, but it was a price I was willing to pay for some adult time. And it was dirty anyway.
Colin not to be dismayed after brushing his teeth returned to the door.
Colin: Is going to be hot or cold out?
I laid there thinking, “really child, it’s the middle of summer, I think the odds are pretty good it’s hot out.” I quickly replied, “hot.”
It wasn’t long after there was another knock on the door.
Bryleigh: Can I wear a dress?
At this point, I was trying to concentrate on what was going on and couldn’t have cared less if she wore a burlap sack. I yelled, “Okay,” through the door and heard her happy little feet take off down the hallway. I knew later when I came out to find her playing in her Easter dress I would have no one to blame but myself.
We were now at the point of no return, there was no saying fuck it and getting up to deal with children. It was do or die at this point, and D had his game face on when Quinn knocked on the door. As soon as I heard his voice, I knew D’s resolve was going to be tested.
Quinn: I need to talk to Dad.
D kept on, business as usual while he carried on a complete conversation with Quinn. Any conversation with Quinn requires total concentration on what he’s saying because he has a speech delay. In addition to that, all of Quinn’s stories are incredibly long.
A quick synopsis of what he said went as follows: S hit him, the other kids were bothering him, we were out of toothpaste (they started with a brand new tube), and he was hungry and wanted to know what we were having for breakfast. Why all that required Dad’s attention, I’ll never know.
By the time we got through Quinn’s Gettysburg Address, D was finished. The hallway outside our bedroom door was quiet. We were able to snuggle for a hot second before there was another knock on the door to alert us that they were now ready and dressed for breakfast. We gave in and got out of bed, our couple time now at an end.
Now don’t get me wrong, we love the kids and usually, we never complain about the changes having kids has brought into to our lives. But on that particular morning, D’s comment as he strolled down the steps to start the coffee machine, pretty much summed it up, “We can’t even fuck anymore.”