If you read what I write very often (thank you, Mom and sweet Megan) then you know that I am endlessly grateful for my marriage. More and more lately I realize that I am completely awed by and enamored with the concept of my children having two parents, because I didn't. My parents have not been a couple since I was four years old and my general opinion of that is that it sucks!
I do, however, need to qualify a couple of things. First, and foremost, I am not judgemental of couples that cannot make it work. Heaven knows that being married is only slightly less difficult than being a parent. The reason I am so grateful for my own marriage is because I believe there has been some divine intervention mingled with our struggles. It's certainly not because we are perfect and know how to do this just right. I don't think that couples who don't make it are failures. I think it's unfortunate that there wasn't some common tie there that made them want to fight like hell, but I don't think at a very general level that divorce is wrong. Some people really aren't meant to be together. My parents for example and my second clarification. They are both outstanding, amazing human beings, but if you know them both then you understand my own comedy version of what it must have been like for them to be in a marriage together. Since I was too young to remember them as a couple I choose to see them as a cartoon. A very pathetic, although hilarious cartoon. Really. Not. Meant. To. Be. And that's OK. So I'll move on . . .
I adore the idea that my children are growing up with two parents. Two parents for me is a huge statement. I don't mean a Mom and a Dad sharing a sink and both being there for Thanksgiving. I mean you get the same answer no matter who you ask. We are two equal halves doing whatever it takes to make these sweet peas turn out right. At least we're trying. And if we're doing anything right at all then our kids will know that home is the one place they can turn when it's not going right for them and it won't matter who's there when they're ready to talk. There are two of us who love and support them unconditionally.
The other half of my family equation has been taking on the majority of the work this week while I am sick. We worry constantly about our sweet baby girl getting sick. Her asthma triggers in such a way that a fall flu can take her OUT for weeks, literally. That's not cool. So I've been quarantined. And #1 of our twosome is doing it all. He's making lunches and doing baby girl hair ~ complete with bows. He's driving back and forth and checking homework. He is letting me rest and caring for them so completely that it's a little unnerving.
But that's the beauty of two that leaves me breathless. I would do the same in a minute and although it's not expected by anyone it is cherished beyond words. Two could be the most precious number in the world to me. It's solid. And true. And my greatest love. I love you, two.