Before and After

Before I was married, I had a hundred theories

about raising children and no children.

Now, I have three children and no theories.

~ John Wilmot

-------------------------------

Remember the days before kids, or as dad of the year and I refer to it, BK?  Not that I don't absolutely love my girls, but come on, what couple doesn't admit that things change when you have kids.  Valentine's day is a perfect example of this.  After kids, or AK, changes things. 

In the days before kids, dad of the year and I would wake that morning with lots of hugs and kisses and professions of how much we loved each other.  We'd share breakfast, read the paper, and then shuffle off to work, but not without one last kiss. 

We'd plan an extravagant night out.  It would involve a restaurant with cloth tablecloths and no crayons.  We'd have drinks and eat ourselves stuffed.  We always had dessert. 

I'd dress nice and wear heels.  Neither of us would look at our cell phones but rather hold hands and speak about our future, and that things would never change when we had children.  After dinner, we'd see a movie or perhaps go to the theater for a show.  It would be perfectly planned.  Dad of the year would always hold the door, even surprising me by opening the car door.  

Then, we'd go home and snuggle on the couch while watching Letterman before we retreated to the bedroom.  I'd like to think we dreamed dreams that involved our future children and how perfect our lives would be.

Now, let's fast forward to Valentine's Day AK.  I begin my day by making sure the kids' valentine's for school are ready, realizing I made one too few for daughter of the year #2.  Daughter of the year #1 doesn't like what is on the school menu so I slap together a school lunch at the last minute.  In my haste to make the sandwich, I notice a little jelly fell on my shirt.  Crap, I have to change and it already took me 20 minutes to pick out that outfit.  

I dress the girls in pink, after all, it is Valentine's Day.  Daughter of the year #2, who is potty training, has an accident.  An all out two-year-old fit starts as she doesn't want to wear the other pink pants I have picked out.  After several attempts to coax her into the pink ones, we finally settle on purple.  She doesn't match but I no longer care as I have 20 minutes to get to my destination and I realize I'm not even wearing pants yet.  We hug briefly after she puts the purple pants on, a sign of forgiveness for her misbehavior.  It isn't until I am straightening my hair that I notice the crusted booger on my shirt from her snotty nose.  Thank goodness I just did laundry.  Outfit #3!

We rush off to our days.  Halfway through, dad of the year texts to ask what we have planned for dinner.  Dinner?  I was lucky to get out of the house with pants on!  My response:  Hadn't thought about it. 

We meet at home and decide to go out to eat since I thawed nothing in my haste to get ready that morning.  The girls are having a pillow pet fight in the living room where you suspect someone is going to get hurt.  Yep!  I hear screaming! 

Daughter of the year #2 has fallen into the coffee table.  I give her lots of hugs and a wet washcloth to put on the bump on her head.  Later I notice yet another booger on my shirt.  Outfit #4, here we go. 

I dress hastily in a pair of jeans, even though I'd much rather put on sweatpants and a huge sweatshirt.  I opt for the oversized sweatshirt but dress it up with jeans.  I can only find one tennis shoe and wonder where the second could have gone.  I no longer even own a pair of heels.  My closet is full of responsible flats.  In the meantime, I hear the girls chasing each other through the house. 

BAM!  Daughter of the year #1 slams the door to her room to get away from her sister.  There's little fists pounding on the door and lots of high pitched laughter.  That reminds me, I'm out of Tylenol.  Dad of the year stops the pounding at the door before someone gets hurt.  He's met with lots of statements about being a fun hater. 

I glance at my watch and realize it is 5:40.  At this point, restaurants will be getting busy.  I'm tired.  Dad of the year is sitting in the great room playing a game on his iPhone.  Daughter of the year #2 is sitting on her sister and bouncing up and down while her sister intermittently gasps for air and then giggles.  That is, until daughter of the year #2 has an accident, while bouncing.  We all hustle off to the bathroom to change. 

After several clothing changes for many, I sit to put my shoes on, realizing the time.  I glance at dad of the year, who has dozed off in the chair.  I ask the girls if they'd like to order pizza and have a "picnic" in the living room.  After all, our DVR is nearly full of unwatched television. 

Later that evening, after the girls are in bed, dad of the year and I snuggle on the couch.  I'm awakened by the sound of my own snoring and find dad of the year doing that same.  I glance at the clock, it's 9:15.  We shuffle off to bed and briefly mutter to each other "Happy Valentine's Day." 

And, I dream dreams about a time where I begin and end my day in the same outfit.