Feng shui for parents

Recently, I was flipping through a popular women’s magazine in bed. (I had snuck away when no one was looking, knowing that I had approximately two-and-a-half minutes before someone noticed I was gone and came looking.) So, I was searching for something I could read quickly. I came across an article about decorating your bedroom for ultimate romance. The author advised that couples shouldn’t have pictures of their children in the bedroom, or anything child-related for that matter.

Since I was lying in bed, I took a moment to look around our bedroom. A pair of sweaty black soccer socks had been slung across the footboard, and a stack of board books was shoved into one corner. A tiny green barrette sat atop the bedside table next to a discarded sippy cup. As I shifted to get a better view, my foot hit a lump under the covers, which upon inspection revealed a matted yellow stuffed duck trapped between the sheet and comforter. On the wall, hung a plaster cast of a child’s tiny handprint, a summer library craft project. Clearly, ultimate romance was passing us by (at least as it was defined by this author).

 Six-and-a-half-years ago, J and I traveled to the beautiful island of Maui to celebrate the beginning of our marriage. We swam in the ocean, snorkeled, traveled the Road to Hana, ate at expensive restaurants, fell asleep while warm tropical air wafted through open windows, and slept in as late as we wanted.

It’s my assertion that honeymoons are wasted on newlyweds. Back then, we had hours to sit and listen to one another’s thoughts. There was still an air of mystery surrounding marriage, and I hadn’t yet begun to swipe J’s flannel pajama pants and sweatshirts for sleepwear. We were consumed by being young and in love, and sleeping in wasn’t a luxury because we could do it every weekend if we chose.

I think honeymoons should be taken five to ten years into a marriage, when neither of you actually ever gets to finish a complete thought before being interrupted by someone who needs help wiping. (The last uninterrupted conversation we had revolved around whether or not to call the duct-cleaning guy to snake the dryer duct. We’re romantic like that.)

By the time a couple has produced a couple of children, time for each other is at a premium. I like to think of it as drive-by romance. A quick swat on the rear while we fill milk cups at dinner. A shared laugh over something one of the kids said.

The reality is, the years with our children will be short. They will soon move out and live their own lives. There will be a time when it will just be the two of us again, and we can lay on the beach in Maui (although that bikini is never going to be quite the same). Children have a way of filling up every corner of a house, every spare moment, and every nook and cranny of a parent’s heart. Instead of banishing all things children from our bedroom, I think I’ll embrace this chapter of our lives. There will come a time all too soon when I will be lying in bed reading a magazine with no one to interrupt. I think I’ll keep a few board books to stack in the corner just in case.