Scene: Our Dinner Table
Daughter: “How do you KNOW you should marry someone?”
Son: “When you find the right person, a spark happens. You have to nurture that spark until it becomes a flame, and eventually, a bonfire that fuels your marriage. And the size of the wick matters, too. A small wick means the spark can fizzle out. Daddy’s wick is huge, and that keeps Mommy happy.”
He’s only 10, right?
While the wick jokes are abundant, this conversation occurred after a discussion about how my partner proposed. The kids were entranced by the tale of how he chose my ring, orchestrated the engagement, and how I accepted. This interaction made me realize that our children perceive “us” through a very different lens than I do.
Their understanding of us is predominantly shaped by the present moment: the mother they see driving them everywhere and the father who supports those endeavors. They have no notion of our lives “B.C.”—Before Children. My son’s recent inquiry about whether a Beach Boys song was something I listened to in college starkly highlighted this disconnect.
There’s so much they don’t know about the B.C. “us.” They aren’t aware that during our first date in 1995, standing by the ocean, I felt an undeniable spark. In that moment, gazing into his deep blue eyes, I realized that all my past relationships had led me to the one I would spend my life with.
They also don’t know that their father took me out on my 21st birthday to celebrate because my friends were, well, let’s say, not exactly legally allowed to join. The idea that he often encouraged me to leave the bar so we could head home would surely astonish them. (Let’s keep that just between us, shall we?). And we definitely shouldn’t mention the housewarming party I hosted in our first apartment.
They weren’t there when I walked down the aisle, and he cried, managing to say, “You’re beautiful.” They might find it amusing to learn that we laughed uncontrollably during the “for richer or poorer” part of our vows, considering we had only $23 in savings that day. Our wedding gifts were a blessing!
They have no clue about the hard work we put into our first house, which we bought with every penny we saved from the wedding. My kids don’t realize I can handle a pneumatic nail gun expertly and that my spackling skills are top-notch.
They also missed witnessing the joy and disbelief on our faces when that little stick revealed two pink lines—the moment that marked the beginning of the end of “just us.” Over time, “us” transformed into a bustling, chaotic “we.” Yes, there’s so much they remain unaware of regarding the B.C. “us.”
We traveled to Disney World three times before children. We had two-door cars devoid of French fries crumbs. Our friends used our actual names instead of “Mom” and “Dad.” There are countless details about our past that our children will likely never know or comprehend.
In today’s world of parenting, our identities often revolve around our children. We, as couples and individuals, are frequently defined by our kids’ activities, achievements, and lives. It’s easy to lose sight of who we were B.C. It’s easy to forget that once, we danced on bars or took spontaneous road trips in the middle of the night. It’s easy to overlook the fact that we existed before them.
While I don’t need my children to know every story from my past (thank goodness, some stories are best left untold), I do strive to share snippets from that time to help them understand who I am and how I evolved into the domestic goddess I am today. In those hectic moments of parenting, when each day feels like a repeat of the last, looking into those same blue eyes across our dinner table reminds me of who I used to be and who I still am at heart.
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Summary
This reflection emphasizes the vast differences between life before children and the current parenting experience. It highlights the importance of sharing past experiences with children to help them understand their parents’ identities. The narrative conveys the emotional journey of transforming from a couple to a family and the challenges of maintaining one’s sense of self amidst the chaos of parenting.
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