Elevators and public bathrooms are two things I do not enjoy. I am scared to get stuck in an elevator and I am freaked out by public restrooms. As a matter of practice, I try to avoid using both. But since having a baby these are two things that have become a regular part of my daily routine. I might be more inclined to tip the stroller in extreme vertical angles to accommodate the escalator if I weren’t so worried that strangers would assume I was a bad mother for doing so. Nursing in a public restroom just got to be too much. But you know what, while my kid is a baby, it’s not so much about me anymore. All right let’s not sugarcoat things; it’s not about me anymore at all. I can look past my non-manicured nails, my unpolished toes, my make-up free face, my six-days-in-a-row pony-tailed hair and my stained clothes. My baby is just a baby once. And while I am okay (for now) with neglecting me, I am not okay with neglecting we – him and me. I’m talking about my husband.

Before I had Micah, I read gazillions of parenting books. This one told me to put the baby on a schedule, that one told me that I should never put a baby on schedule. One told me to let the baby cry and yet another told me that I should never, ever let the baby cry. One said a pacifier was fine and the other explained that a pacifier was a one-way ticket into the arms of the orthodontist. But what they did all say – actually warn – was never to put the relationship with your spouse before the baby. At the time I thought: that seems simple enough. As I rubbed my round belly I felt nothing but pangs of overwhelming love for my husband, and I couldn’t imagine anything – or anyone – taking the focus off of just the two of us. I knew life was going to change. But by change I just thought I might have to vacuum or worse, cook.

It’s nearly impossible to put the baby second. All of our conversations revolve around the baby: What did he eat, how much and what time? Did he nap? And if so, for how long? Is he taking more steps, are there any new teeth? And there is the issue of diapers – how many, how big, and of course – what color?

Conversations weren’t the only thing revolving around the baby. So was our budget. Babysitters are a bloody fortune. That sweet little girl next door with the back pack and the braids – looks innocent, but charges just about as much as a defense attorney. So we have to really want to go wherever it is we are going. That’s how, I believe, Jimmy and I got into this pattern of taking turns going out on the weekends – without each other. We figured this would be a perfect way to save money on babysitters. So, depending on the event or more specifically whose friend was throwing the event and doing the inviting, decided which Baron adult would attend. This was going on for about four weeks until I threw a penalty flag on the play.

We were taking turns waking up in the morning, during the night and making sure naps were solid. And now we were taking turns having social life. I was growing concerned that while we were responsibly orbiting around Micah, we were drifting farther and farther apart from each other. So, when Jimmy announced that he was going to a Collective Soul concert, I announced that I was too. He balked at first. But then I explained the babysitter’s fees paled in comparison to the price we would pay later if we didn’t spend some much-needed time together.