I've decide to join Amber over at The Run A Muck for this idea, the marriage letters. This week's topic - the nightly routine.
I can't remember what the nightly routine was like before the boys came into our lives. I am pretty sure it included more cookies. Or ice cream. Or ice cream runs. There was definitely more tv watching. And maybe some more energy to talk or play a game of cards.
These days you do your thing, I do mine once the boys have gone to bed. Bubby has his routine - milk, teeth brush, water, kisses, music, bed. Bugaboo is easier - nurse, then sleep. You usually do Bubby's bedtime stuff if you are home, or we tagteam it somehow. Then you head back to your office - to study, to work, to unwind - and I get online, to read blogs, to post on facebook, to find some connection with the outside world that I am not really a part of most days. I have words, so many more words than you, to share, to hear, to ponder because not only am I female, I am an extra-verbal female. So I find my way to get my words out before bed. But I always have more.
Sometimes I pop into your office to tell you about something. Sometimes you come out here, and I chatter away about something else. There are nights when we watch a movie from the library or Redbox. It's rare that there is something on tv worth watching on one of our five channels.
There comes a point when I say, "I'm hungry," and I open the cabinets hoping that something delicious and already made will magically appear. Unfotunately, I usually just make a piece of toast.
At the end of the night, we usually make our way to the bedroom together - or almost together. We check on the boys. You get your glass of water, which will join the other two half-empty glasses of water on the headboard shelf. You set the alarm. One of us sets up the baby-gate (usually you). The bathroom is cold at night - and I wish we had a heated toilet seat. There are nights when I read in bed before you come it. I like to close the book before you finish your own get-ready-to-sleep-routine so that you have to turn off the lights. I know a grown woman shouldn't be afraid of the dark, but there is something about turning out the lights that scares me a little bit.
I kick off my socks under the covers - I will find them in the morning -or next week when I change the sheets. Every night is the same in the fall and winter - we discuss how cold our bedroom is even with the flannel sheets. We each want the other to come over to our own side of the bed for the warmth and so that we will not have to return to cold sheets in a minute.
There are nights when we are exhausted, when one or both of us falls asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow. There are nights when we are tense, when we argue even though we have been told to not argue in the bedroom.
But most nights we talk in the dark.
About what the boys did. About work problems. About old memories. About politics and religion and solving all of the world's problems if only we were in charge. I love saying, "Ok, I really need to go to sleep now," only to still be awake talking, laughing, praying forty-five minutes later. Our bedtime conversations are a regular reminder of why I married you - because I fell in love with you over our long-distance conversations.
Our nightly routines are sure to continue changing over the years, as the boys get older with different needs and schedules. But one thing I don't want to ever change - talking with you in the dark on my side of the bed.