When we took our vows, we promised that we would always be kampi. To me this meant more than just 'being on the same side'. It meant we fought the world back-to-back, like in the movies.
When I looked out from my end of the team, I liked being attached-yet-separate. I thought dividing the work made us a great duo. It turns out I was wrong.
For some time now, my husband has felt we were not kampi. He missed doing things together apart from our limited date nights. Errands. Grocery. Set weekend plans. It sounds small, but in a marriage with both of us working, I realise I have been neglecting his language of love: time and service.
At some point, our marriage had become an assumption. I assumed we had the same style, that "you do this, and I do that" was the way things worked well. It didn't.
Nevermind that I'm not a nagger wife, nevermind that we had new parenthood to navigate, nevermind that he was better at his share of the work. I just had too many excuses and I was resistant to changing my style.
Last month, Jenny from My Mommyology invited me to join her in a #BetterMe life coaching session with Coach Pia Nazareno. I fully expected it to be about parenting, but it was about strengthening your relationship with your spouse. One of the first questions asked was willingness to change. I whispered my thanks for Jenny's timing, and texted my husband half-jokingly "I am so sorry for neglecting you!!"
I am sharing this because a couple of sweet, generous hearts have written reassuring messages and questions on what I try to do for my daughter at home. I am filled with gratitude. But while I am all for involved parenting no matter what your circumstances are, I borrow the words of the wise, funny woman behind Scrollwork:
There is no formula. There are only people who want to sell you theirs.
As for me, some formula changes are in order. The first and most important one is in my head: my husband is my love, not my teammate. I don't want him behind me, I want him beside me.
Preferably holding my hand with flowers, and 'Before Midnight' be damned.
 |
| The best part of the action: cameras pan around the duo and you absolutely know they are going to win. |
When I looked out from my end of the team, I liked being attached-yet-separate. I thought dividing the work made us a great duo. It turns out I was wrong.
For some time now, my husband has felt we were not kampi. He missed doing things together apart from our limited date nights. Errands. Grocery. Set weekend plans. It sounds small, but in a marriage with both of us working, I realise I have been neglecting his language of love: time and service.
At some point, our marriage had become an assumption. I assumed we had the same style, that "you do this, and I do that" was the way things worked well. It didn't.
 |
| Can errands and romance go together? |
Nevermind that I'm not a nagger wife, nevermind that we had new parenthood to navigate, nevermind that he was better at his share of the work. I just had too many excuses and I was resistant to changing my style.
Last month, Jenny from My Mommyology invited me to join her in a #BetterMe life coaching session with Coach Pia Nazareno. I fully expected it to be about parenting, but it was about strengthening your relationship with your spouse. One of the first questions asked was willingness to change. I whispered my thanks for Jenny's timing, and texted my husband half-jokingly "I am so sorry for neglecting you!!"
I am sharing this because a couple of sweet, generous hearts have written reassuring messages and questions on what I try to do for my daughter at home. I am filled with gratitude. But while I am all for involved parenting no matter what your circumstances are, I borrow the words of the wise, funny woman behind Scrollwork:
There is no formula. There are only people who want to sell you theirs.
As for me, some formula changes are in order. The first and most important one is in my head: my husband is my love, not my teammate. I don't want him behind me, I want him beside me.
Preferably holding my hand with flowers, and 'Before Midnight' be damned.
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