All we really wanted to do was cuddle. 

After being married for five years, romantic aspirations become more realistic.  

I’d love to whisk off to Paris for the day, surprise My Lovely Wife with a new Lexus or sneak up behind her and slip a huge diamond necklace around her neck while the cast from “Glee” sang “Endless Love.” Heck, I’d settle for a weekend at Six Flags without having to pack a playpen, Disney DVDs, toys, baby dolls and more “just in case” bags than I took for six years of college. 

Married with children is code for “finding joy in the little things and quiet moments that come around as often as Haley’s Comet.” And on this cold winter’s night, we just wanted to snuggle. 

With the toddler tucked in, the teenager away for the weekend, the dinner dishes cleared and the TV providing little temptation save for a crush of “reality” shows (what does Bret Michaels know about real life anyway?), My Lovely Wife and I crawled under the cool covers. 

This is always my favorite part of the day. It’s the only time we have that’s just for us. We talk softly about each other’s day, about the future and about the things that lay beyond our control that we stress over anyway – all before sleep claims us.  

Like they say on the MTV show “Cribs”, this is where the magic happens. For parents, eight hours removed from the teeth-clinching, white-knuckle worries of being a grown-up is more miracle than magic.  

A good night’s sleep is humanity’s greatest gift. To have someone to share in the experience is heaven minus the long-term commitment to being dead … And that’s romance with your eyes closed.  

Wanna know the cure for insomnia? Children. 

Nothing makes sleep seem so precious as the existence of tiny beings whose sole purpose is to disrupt it. Be it an afternoon nap, “resting your eyes” on the couch or a midnight slumber, children approach sleep like vampires approach sunlight – fearing that closing both eyes at the same time might cause them burst into flames.             

My Lovely Wife and I had been asleep for about an hour when the screaming started.  

Our two-year-old was sitting in the middle of the living room, eyes closed, screaming with the kind of shrill terror reserved for nubile camp counselors being chased through the woods of Camp Crystal Lake by a machete-wielding madman in a hockey mask. 

Needless to say, we let her sleep with us, although she was the only one who actually slept and she did it shoe-horned right between us. It was now 2 a.m.  

By 4:15 a.m., on the night when all I wanted to do was snuggle, I woke up after being kicked in the forehead by a fidgeting toddler. Stabbing pain shot up my neck and back, my body having been contorted into the shape of a question mark thanks to the three dogs that also wormed their way into our bed. 

Instead of My Lovely Wife, I was spooning with a snoring basset hound. 

Such evenings have become the norm, so the idea of keeping the romance alive can be a challenge. I guess the key is never letting it wither in the first place. Romance is simply friendship and happiness set on fire. The joy of being married is that every morning, afternoon and night promises the opportunity to set it ablaze once again. 

Without My Lovely Wife and children, life is like a vase without flowers – sure it’s functional, but there’s obviously something missing.