My husband and I are like ships passing in the night. Rarely do I see him unless we’re docked by our kitchen island grabbing supplies. After we’ve stocked up on some string cheese and Pirate’s Booty, we’re off on our separate adventures. With all the remote learning, work deadlines, and snacking, the only time I see him is when our 7-year-old is in bed. The problem is, I’ve fallen asleep by then too. Isolation and the hurriedness of our schedules has interfered with our alone time as a couple. It’s affecting our connection and I’m not sure how to get us back in the same boat.
In the before times, my husband and I made a point to make time for each other.
We were nervous we’d lose our connection after we became busy, overtired parents so we tried to keep a date night on the books. Spending focused time together kept our relationship grounded. Now, that has all changed. We’re still isolating at home and our son is a constant third wheel. Needless to say, our alone time is pretty much nonexistent.
At the beginning of quarantine, I tried to reserve some time for us.
But the glory of alone time was that we were actually alone. Trying to have a deep convo all alone with my husband while my kid was lurking somewhere close by made it hard for me to unplug my mom-brain. I was always distracted. I imagined our 7-year-old had found the “Red Wedding” episode of Game of Thrones on YouTube to watch or was painting rainbows on the ceiling. Our stolen moments didn’t steal us much time to connect and our relationship was feeling the fallout.
Missing out on those check-ins made our usual breezy communication skills check out.
That’s when the bickering started. We’d yammer about the smallest of things like toothpaste-squeezing etiquette (Squeeze from the bottom or top?) or dishwasher-loading strategies. It escalated from there because without time to lay the groundwork for our friendship to deepen, our foundation shifts.
It usually takes a second to notice these small changes, but I can certainly feel the distance growing.
I feel misunderstood more often, and even though we’re together virtually every second of every day, there’s a separation that lives between us. We turn into that scattered couple we’d taken steps to avoid. Clearly, we needed to find some time together alone.
Ultimately, my husband and I had to rework our idea of what connecting as a couple meant.
We found the solution in the tiny in-between moments. We tried to be more mindful of our connection during ordinary tasks we might have rushed through such as preparing dinner or putting away the dishes. We found we could even sneak in longer conversations while our kid played in the next room — something called Minecraft?
Taking these smaller moments, but taking them way more often, made the difference in keeping us feeling like a connected family — and putting us back in the same boat.
