Marriage Vows for Parents

I recently went back to my OB's office to see the physician's assistant for a recheck of a complication from my c-section. I'm fine, thanks for asking. The sweet PA, Sarah, and I were talking and she said "Does your husband help a lot with the kids?"

Me: Yes. No. He's great, but I don't like to call it "helping" because these are not MY kids that he is "helping" with. These are OUR kids that we are raising together. 
Sarah: Oh! Uh. Yes, of course. 
Me: I am SO sorry. That sass wasn't actually intended for you at all. 
Sarah: No, I totally get it. 
Me: He helps a lot. 
Sarah: Great. That's really great. 

When The Husband and I got married 7 years ago, we said all the traditional vows. The only thing we skipped is the giving away part, because I am not a possession to be given away.  We said for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, from this day forward as long as we both shall live. And guys, we meant it. We stood in a horse pasture formerly owned by Kenny Rogers in front of all our friends, families and coworkers and committed to the good and the bad and the ugly. We'd already been together for eight years by that point, and had seen our share of ups and downs. But we were young and times were good, and we were the only people we had to worry about. At that time it was hard to imagine how different our lives could ever be. Looking back, those vows seem vague and simple and short. 

Since then we have lost family members, we've renovated houses and changed jobs. We've fought and made up, we've put offers on three houses and moved two times. More importantly we have created two more humans. Let that sink in. We are parents, parents of little people who need a lot. And our marriage is still good but has changed.  If I had to stand before family and friends and coworkers again (and I would. I would a thousand times over) I think I'd choose different vows, vows that are more reflective of who we are and what we're committed to now. 

They might sound something like this. I take you to be my (wife/husband), in ramen noodles and in steak dinners. In pop tarts and in celebratory anniversary dinners at fancy restaurants. In family vacations and in stomach viruses with sick kids who throw up in our bed. In sweet, sleeping children who look serene, and in overtired infants who scream in the car. In new houses, and in old. In clogged toilets and backed up septic tanks, in happy family dances around the kitchen. In watching children discover the world, in hearing them backtalk and wanting to slap them. In bath time and bed time and quiet time and having no time. In you've-had-on-those-yoga-pants-for-two-days and in dressing up for a special occasions. In whispers on pillows and in talking through clenched teeth. In annual bonuses and in just get the store brand cereal. In the baby won't stop crying, in the excitement of his learning to walk. In we're in this together, in I can't stand to look at you right now. In you look exhausted, let me take over, in I'm exhausted, can you please take over? In tick bites, in knee scrapes, in eat your dinner, in go to sleep. In I'll back you up. In awkward holiday meals with family when we make secret "thank you" or "you owe me" faces at each other, in fun and easy dinners with friends. In we've been up all night, in kids are with the grandparents sleeping in. In bikinis, in stretch marks, in anger, and in love. In cursing you in labor, in apologizing afterward. In holding a sleeping child, in chasing one through a parking lot. In arguing and in making up. In honesty and in holding back. In I'm sorry, in thank you. In no privacy, in saving something for the imagination. In moments of intimacy, in times when we've only talked logistics of childcare. In tears and in laughs, in filth and in cleanliness. In pregnancy, and in infancy, in toddlerhood, in preschool, in elementary, middle and high school. In day and in night. In we'll start this all over again tomorrow.

Till death do us part.