Saturday, February 23, 2013

the parenting party

My man is my partner in crime in the parenting party. The Wayne to my Garth. The Ernie to my Bert. Our parenting journey (Journey! swig) has turned us into something on the other side of the young sweethearts we were on the day we married.

We look at each other differently, now.

We exchanged glances of sheer determination and togetherness when it became evident that falling pregnant was to be more of a challenge than we imagined.

Two years later, we locked humbled, hurt eyes as we shared the pain of a miscarriage, and giggled at the leaky pen spoiling the doctor's fancy white leather chair.

I drew strength from his gaze when birthing our babies, all three of them. I saw a change in the way he saw me, and I knew the love was cutting deeper now.

We shared a slightly bemused look as we brought each child home, crossed the threshold and it became real, each time. A bit like the look I imagine you would share with someone about to parachute out of a plane with you.

Lately I've found my darling and I exchanging a glance over the dinner table, or over the kids' heads while we are out and about. It's the look of a well-practiced military team, knowing each others' signals and next move.

I figure this stage of parenting young children is a bit like the best party you ever went to. When you wake up, there will be large chunks that you can't remember with the clarity you would like. There will be things you did that you do recall, but cringe with the memory. There will be stuff you remember (such as dancing on the bar) with fondness for your own awesomeness, but that others don't recall with the same humour. There will be things that seemed completely insignificant to you, but that will be key in the minds of the others at the party. And inevitably, there will be a hangover of epic proportions.

I like parties, but they are best when you get to share them with someone who knows all your insecurities and quirks. Someone to share in-jokes and people-watch with. Someone to hold your hair back and tuck you into bed at your drunkest most vulnerable. Someone who, when all the fun is over, the guests have left and the clean-up is done, will still share a joke and a knowing look.

And hopefully hold hands on the lounge to watch silly romantic comedy films.

So many more steps to come on this journey. I feel humble, loved and unable to express the depth of my gratitude for a true partnership. Cheers, my darling.


  1. Sarah, you've brought tears to my eyes. So beautifully written and I feel the very same way you do. You're one heck of a writer. I think this is my favourite post of yours. xx

  2. Such a great post...the party analogy is perfect...I had never thought about parenting that way but you are exactly right!

    Party on!

  3. What a wonderful tribute, he sounds like a great guy x

  4. What a gorgeous post.

    Two parents working together has to be one of the best gifts that parents can give their kids.

  5. I found that I had no idea as a young wife how much our love would grow, change and endure. It still amazes me and I feel lucky every day. Beautiful post. :)

  6. Gorgeous Post Sarah...and so so true. Mel x

  7. Oh yeah. So much here that i can relate to. . . but put much more eloquently than I'd ever be able to. So much in those looks exchanged, when there is no time or energy or room for words. I just passed this post to my husband to read, because it says everything that i want to. thanks!

    rachel xo

  8. Oh wow so beautiful. You lovely lovely



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