My partner, Sarah, and I were sitting in our living room trying to recall the last time we enjoyed a date night together. It was past 10 p.m., and our three children were finally asleep. It seems that after 10 p.m. is the only time we have where we can talk without a child requesting a snack, complaining about homework, or needing us to settle some trivial dispute.
I was slouched against the sofa, fighting to stay awake after a long day. Sarah had her laptop open, working on a spreadsheet. Our home was in disarray, and we both had to wake up in just a few hours to kick off another day. Despite my desire to hit the hay, we needed to communicate.
Even though we lived under the same roof, managed every household task together, and cared for our kids side by side, it felt like we hadn’t truly connected in days.
“Was it last month?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I think we went to that new superhero movie.” I paused, realizing my mistake. “No, wait, that can’t be right. That film left theaters ages ago. Has it genuinely been that long?”
We both sat in silence for a moment, and then Sarah pondered aloud, “What happened to us?”
I didn’t have an answer.
We used to make it a point to go out at least once a month. It was a priority for us. But since Sarah started working more hours, those outings have become nonexistent. Both of us work in education, and our evenings are typically filled with getting the kids to bed, grading assignments, answering emails, and juggling other school-related tasks. Our weekends are consumed with soccer practice and more grading. With our youngest being just 3 years old and a bundle of energy, and the older two not yet old enough to babysit, we often operate in shifts—one of us watching the kids while the other tackles our to-do list.
While there’s something commendable about how Sarah and I cover for each other, it leaves little room for just the two of us. Sometimes it feels as though we’re co-workers on opposite shifts, only exchanging pleasantries about household duties rather than nurturing our relationship.
This is the reality of marriage with young children. There are countless responsibilities demanding your attention, and often the needs of your relationship take a backseat to managing jobs and parenting. You promise to carve out time for each other, setting goals for monthly or weekly date nights, but those plans often fall by the wayside. Instead, you settle for watching a Netflix series together on the couch, hoping for some quality time.
Then life throws you a curveball. One of the kids decides that sleep is optional, or one of you takes on a volunteer role at school, and suddenly the only time available to work on it overlaps with your precious viewing time. You assure each other it’s just temporary, but before you know it, you find yourselves on the couch trying to remember when you last connected.
It’s as if making time for your marriage is like balancing a tub of water over your head. It remains steady for a while, but eventually, something changes, forcing you to readjust your life to avoid spilling over. I’ve often heard that marriage requires ongoing maintenance, but seldom is the actual process outlined.
After nearly 13 years of marriage, I can tell you it looks like staying up later than you’d like to watch a show, even when fatigue sets in. It means hiring a babysitter to go out for a date, regardless of whether it fits into your time or budget. It’s about picking up the phone at work, even when you’re not in the mood to chat, simply to listen to your partner vent about their day because you won’t have time later. It’s about prioritizing your marriage now amidst the chaos of everyday life.
“You know,” Sarah said, “someday our lives will slow down. The kids will grow up, and it’ll just be us.”
I nodded, “Yeah, but after 18 years of putting ‘us’ on hold, will there still be an ‘us’?”
Sarah didn’t respond, but we both understood the gravity of the question. We’ve been married long enough to recognize the consequences of neglecting our bond. Neither of us wants that fate.
I pointed at her laptop. “Let’s find a babysitter for Saturday night.”
“But it’s family movie night,” she protested.
“That can wait,” I insisted. “We need a night out. It’s time for mom and dad to enjoy a movie together.”
We spent the next few minutes messaging every babysitter we knew, excitedly planning our Saturday night, and counting down the days.
For more insights on parenting and family dynamics, check out this informative article on home insemination kits. If you’re interested in pregnancy resources, Healthline offers excellent information. To explore more on balancing family life and relationships, visit Modern Family Blog.
Summary:
In the chaos of raising young children, it’s easy to let marital connections fade. Jake and Sarah reflect on their dwindling date nights and the importance of making time for each other amidst parenting and work commitments. They reach a pivotal moment when they realize they must prioritize their relationship now, even if it means sacrificing other plans.