After Hours

"Daddy used to be your best friend, but then you got married." I laughed at my 7-year-old's comment and assured him that he was quite mistaken. But there was a time in our marriage when my son's assessment would have been spot on.

After a bout of infertility, our family grew from just two to five in three years, and life became busy. The days of lingering over dinner were pushed aside for nursing babies, coaxing stubborn toddlers and wiping up spilled food. And, oh, the endless interruptions. My ears are still tired.

The time my husband and I spent together was occupied by logistical directives — when to be somewhere, what bills to pay, who needed to go potty and who needed a bath. I didn't see my husband as a friend as much as another set of arms. Child care filled every waking moment.

Out of desperation, we began enforcing an early bedtime for our children. We suddenly had a quiet house, limited evening activities and no distractions. With several hours to spend alone together every night, we reconnected as a couple. We shared struggles, joys and little moments that might have been forgotten in the "How was your day?" conversation at the front door.

Before we instated the bedtime rule, we would try to cram in important issues whenever we could — usually while the kids were begging for tickles or while driving to a meeting. Tempers would flare, and we inevitably hurt each other's feelings. Now, we put off touchy subjects until our children are safely tucked in bed. Then we sit down to calmly work things out together.

Our children are a little older now, and we could probably push bedtime back to accommodate more evening activities, but we jealously guard our routine.

People often remark, "I've never met anyone as enthusiastic as you are about bedtime!" Of course, I am. It gave me my best friend back.