Meaningful what?

Is the passion dead?

This is the question I was asking myself after a conversation I had with my husband the other night. I’d been trimming my toenails before I slid into bed and switched off the light.
Him: “You cut your toenails?”
(Very long pause)
Him: “Wow, you fell asleep fast.”
Me: “I’m not asleep. I just didn’t really think you were expecting an answer.”
Him: “Yeah, I guess there’s not much else you could say about it.”
Me: “Not really, no.”

That night I began to wonder if we were in trouble. Sometimes we still talk about interesting things like politics, current events, or the meaning of life. But after more than ten years of marriage, most of our conversations revolve around topics such as:
1. The kids.
2. His job.
3. Personal finances.
4. Household duties.
5. Humorous television commercials currently airing on ESPN.

The next day I decided to pay close attention to our conversations and try to steer them toward meaningful topics. My first opportunity came that evening after work. We were standing in the kitchen discussing the day’s events, and I mentioned my blog. “You’ve really been on a writing kick,” he said.
“Well, I’m hoping it’s more than just a ‘kick,’” I said. “I’m planning to keep this up.”
From there I began elaborating on how fulfilling it has been for me to start writing again. This lasted maybe three minutes before I noticed his eyes beginning to dart away from me and toward the TV screen. Finally I stopped talking and just stared at him. He looked at me, then the screen. “This is a funny commercial,” he said. “Have you seen this one?”

Well, no reason for me to dominate the meaningful conversation. Maybe it was his turn to share. So, later that night, after the kids were in bed, I asked him, “So, what’s been on your mind lately?”
He looked up from his laptop. “Business has been pretty bad,” he said. “And I’m about two weeks behind on my expense reports.”
I asked him how his marathon training was going. “Not great,” he said. “I pulled a muscle yesterday.”
Other items running through my husband’s head: He needed to start working on the taxes. There was more paperwork to fill out for the home refinancing. He was trying to decide what to get for his brother’s birthday, which was two months ago. We should probably get more life insurance. His car needed new tires. And brakes.
“This is a funny commercial,” I said, pointing at the TV. “Have you seen this one?”

My husband and I met in college and got married while he was still in school. Somehow it never occurred to us that we were just a couple of kids.
In premarital counseling we scored high on compatibility tests. It seemed we had almost everything in common. Looking back, however, the tests had no questions about movie preferences or the optimal number of hours per day to spend watching televised sports.

We’ve lucked out, though. Even as our differences have became obvious, even as we have both changed and continue to change, even through the moves and career changes and new babies, we continue to like each other quite a lot. In fact, maybe the passion isn’t dead at all. Maybe it’s just that the nature of our passion has changed.
Twelve years ago, I longed for someone to make me feel complete, to be my best friend, to join me for an exciting journey through life. Those things still sound nice, but at this stage in life I mostly long for eight uninterrupted hours in a comfortable bed.
That doesn’t happen very often, which is why it means so much on a Friday night when my husband turns to me and says, “Why don’t you sleep in tomorrow?”
Sleeping in. Now that’s something I feel passionately about.

Baby Nuthouse: welcome to the nuthouse

Hi there! I’m so glad you could stop by. It’s such a chore getting out of the house these days. As you can see, the kids are still in their pajamas. What time is it, anyway? Is it after ten? Really? Almost noon? Where does the time go?
Come right on in, just watch your step. The boys were racing their toy cars in here until the baby demolished the Lego grandstand. Speaking of the baby, watch out for her, too, she’s trying to sneak off with your cell phone. Isn’t it cute how she holds it and says “ha-wo”?
No, sweetie, you have to give it back—that’s not ours. Why don’t you go find one of your own phones?
Lucky for us cell phones only last about three days past the warranty expiration, so we have plenty of old ones for the kids to play with.
Anyway, here’s your phone back. Oops, sorry about the yogurt. Let me clean that off for you.
Please, have a seat, anywhere is fine. Well, you don’t want to sit on the couch—there aren’t any cushions. Where are those cushions? I turn my back and they disappear. Oh, and that chair is actually a letter factory right now. So sorry, but hey, how about this chair over here? I’ll just move this pile of laundry out of your way. I need to take it upstairs anyway before it ends up on the floor and covered in dog hair. Let me go throw it on the bed and I’ll be right back.
Okay, all settled? Can I get you something to drink? Let’s see what I’ve got in the fridge. We have whole milk, two percent milk, soymilk, vanilla-flavored soymilk…
Just some water then? Would you like ice? Hmmm, we seem to be all out of ice. Sorry.
So, tell me how you’ve been. What have you been up to lately? Wait, have you seen the baby? She was right here a second ago. Hold on, I better find her. You have to keep a close watch on that kid these days. Just when I think she’s past the stage of putting everything in her mouth, I find her munching on styrofoam.
Here she is, she’s just clearing out all the kitchen cabinets again. Now, you were saying?
Whoa! Did you hear that? That can’t be good. Let me go check on the boys. I’ll be right back.
Okay, sorry that took a while, I had to find some Band-Aids. Oh, they’re both fine. They insist on Band-Aids for any injury even when there is no visible mark.
Sorry, you were about to tell me something. You know, I guess since it’s 12:30 we ought to eat lunch, right? Which one of these sounds best: chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, or peanut butter and jelly?
You already ate? Well in that case, I’ll do the chicken nuggets. Not a favorite of mine, but two out of three of my children highly recommend them. The other one eats only four different foods, and chicken is not on his list. Let’s see, he had toast for breakfast, so he can have yogurt for lunch.
Anyway, you were telling me…NO! NO! NO TOUCH! Honey, you absolutely CANNOT TOUCH electrical outlets! NO TOUCH! Understand? Well, I’m sorry that made you cry, but I’m just trying to keep you safe. Here, why don’t you sit in your high chair. Your chicken nuggets are almost ready. What? You want milk? Milk? Yes, milk? Okay, one second. Where did your cup end up? Did I ever put that back in the refrigerator? No, here it is. Well, this is kind of gross, let me wash it off.
So, what were you—really? You have to leave already? Seems like you just got here. Where does the time go?