A friend and fellow special needs mom informed us that she was coming over to watch the kids so that Brandon and I could grab a quiet dinner together.
She came over, we put the kids to bed, and the three of us ended up talking for over an hour about our struggles in parenting and learning to trust God with our children. Her son is now in his late teens, and we wanted to glean every morsel of wisdom she could offer. Just as we were heading out she said something that we’ve heard and read a million times, but tonight it was sticking: “You must make your marriage a priority. Promise me you’ll do this.”
Brandon and I split a pizza and then stopped at an ice cream shop. I felt young and light again, remembering days when we would sit in the car and talk and laugh and slurp down two scoops of cookies-n-cream with marshmallow topping.
We got home after 10 p.m. (yeah, we’re party animals), and not surprisingly Rhema was still awake, crashing and banging around in her room. While I said goodnight to Joanne, Brandon went up to check on Rhema.
A moment later I heard him say, “Um, she’s had another… accident.” (‘Accident’ is a euphemism, of course. Rhema’s digestive system has been on the fritz lately. If we don’t get to her in time, fecal smearing ensues.) Not again. I’d just cleaned up a mess hours before.
Nice conclusion to our last date night in a long while, I thought, as we cleaned the child and the floors. This is not what I imagined when we said ‘I do.’ But there we were on hands and knees, side by side, scrubbing the gross stuff out of the wood floor. It was rather romantic.
Instead of retreating to our own corners, I think we’re finally learning how to protect one another in all of this.
The cute, curly haired, half-naked girl escaped down the stairs. Brandon got to the kitchen just in time to find her holding an orange and wielding a steak knife. When I came down, the two of them were sitting at the table at 11 o’clock at night eating an orange together.
For once, I was not tired or frustrated or upset about Rhema being up too late. They were too cute.
I just cherished them.