The Best Possible Thing

Every few months or so Ted and I have a conversation about how we can be more productive in our evenings. We're always getting to bed much later than we planned and waking up tired every morning. We're always forgetting that we meant to pay that bill, mail that card, do that load of laundry. Ted never gets as much homework finished as he had planned and I still didn't get around to that list of random things to be done before the baby gets here. Suddenly it's 10:00 and we didn't even get to half of what we intended to accomplish. We're exhausted and barely find the energy to crawl into bed and say our prayers.

The "solution" to this "problem" is always to quit "wasting time" in the evening. We identify blocks of time that are not well spent and promise each other we will help each other do better from here on out.

The main culprit: the after dinner lingering.

The scene: I cook a big meal (or a small one) and Ted helps in every way he knows how. He sets the table as I put the finish touches on my masterpiece (ha!). We sit down, start eating, and don't say much to each other. He's exhausted from a hard day at work and I'm inhaling food and trying not to choke. But right as the last few bites are being taken and the glass of water is being finished off, the conversation starts to flow. We talk about the intricacies of our days, funny events we saw on the news, politics, family, stuff we saw on facebook, last week's homily. Anything and everything.

We put our feet up and sit at the kitchen table just taking each other in. Falling in love all over again with the person we married. Learning more about each other while we nibble at the last few grains of rice in our plates.

The dishes sit, piled up at the sink and waiting to be washed. The stack of bills still needs to be paid. Homework beckons. And that "baby to do" list isn't getting any shorter.

But we don't care. It'll get done. Or not. Either way-we're enjoying each other's company.

Sometimes our conversation will end with me climbing in Ted's lap and kissing on him before we start dishes. He always knows when this is coming, like he reads it on my face, and he pushes his chair away from the table to make room for my ever expanding body to climb in and savor the last few minutes of peace before the busy evening sets in.

Tonight was no exception as we sat and discussed everything under the sun. It seemed to last just a little longer than usual and in the back of my mind I was thinking, "We're only gonna get so many more of these."

Our due date is exactly two months away. And while I know we'll always make family dinners a priority and make an effort to take time for "just the two of us"- I also know it will never be quite the same. The baby will need to be changed. The toddler will need to go to time out. The 7 year old will be late for t-ball practice. That special time of day that occurs between our bellies being full and the dishes getting washed will slip away, or at least change dramatically. And I know I'll miss it. I welcome the diaper changes, the t-ball practices, and even the time-outs. But I'll miss those moments. Those conversations that go on forever without interruption.

I've heard that the best possible thing a mother can do for her child is to love their father.

I'm striving to do the "best" thing in every aspect of this little baby's life. But even if our birth goes horribly wrong and I wind up with more drugs than an addict, breastfeeding is a disaster, I'm forced to send them to world's worst day care, and fail in just about every other area of mothering that exists.....I hope I always remember when I look back, years from now, that I truly did the best possible thing for them.

I loved their father.