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He'll Dance With Me
Life with Kids Doesn't Mean Life without Romance By Margaret O'Hair
I measure my life by baby feet: There's the time before they came, and there's the sled ride of life after they came. But there wouldn't be any baby feet across my heart if there wasn't a much bigger pair that walked into my life first.
I was standing on the dock by a river when he walked by. "Flip!" went my heart. Even though he knew how to dance, he said he didn't like to. But we did anyway all the way into the next day. In 24 hours we were the flavor of the day. In 48 hours we were couple of the month. In 72 hours we were over the moon. Over the moon turned into "Just Married."
"Just Married" was heaven a heaven of his arms around me while we slept and bare skin warm on bare skin, like spilled sunlight on a beach. A simple hammock gave us ideas ideas that turned into children.
Our Irish twins were darling, demanding and reasons to save the planet. All of this took energy. We grew tired. You know how it is. There are days when he will be absolutely fabulous to me, and there are days when he can pass right by me without giving me so much as a kiss.
Our conversations turn into specifics: "Do you want regular coffee or unleaded coffee?" "Do we want a van or an SUV?" "You let the dog out." "No, YOU let the dog out." "I did it LAST TIME!"
At any moment a small person might leap out at us from behind a doorway cherry tomato poised between two fingers yelling, "Aim, squirt!"