> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.inthegraywithkirsten.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Ewww... Mom and Dad Are Kissing Again - URL: https://www.inthegraywithkirsten.com/ewww-mom-and-dad-are-kissing-again/ - Published: 2026-09-13T17:24:50.000Z - Updated: 2026-09-13T17:24:50.000Z - Author: Kirsten Soldridge - Tags: Life in the Gray “Ewww... Mom and Dad are kissing again.” It’s become somewhat of a running joke in our house. One of the kids will walk into the kitchen and catch Mike and me hugging, kissing, dancing, tickling each other, or simply being playful together. “Gross.” “Stop.” Or one of my personal favorites: “Hey, I’m watching you guys.” And we laugh. But the truth is... **They are watching us.** And I think about that more now than I ever did when they were little. Because growing up, I didn't have a positive example of what marriage or romantic love was supposed to look like. My parents separated when I was very young, and throughout my childhood I saw relationships come and go. I witnessed arguments, yelling, hurtful words and people putting one another down. But I don't remember witnessing two people calmly sitting down together and working through something difficult. I didn't see healthy communication. I didn't see what it meant for two people to disagree while still respecting one another. I didn't see two people approach a problem as a team instead of treating each other like the problem. So, when I entered my own relationship, I carried some of those things with me. Because that's what we do sometimes. We repeat what was modeled for us until we become aware enough to choose something different. In the early years of my relationship with Mike, I yelled. I said things when I was angry that weren't kind. I expected him to know when I was upset and somehow magically understand why. For a long time, I genuinely believed that if he loved me, he should just *know.* But Mike isn't a mind reader. And eventually I had to learn that if something was hurting me, bothering me, or wasn't working within our relationship, I had a responsibility to communicate that. I had to learn how to sit down and have the uncomfortable conversations instead of allowing resentment to build. I had to learn how to explain what I was feeling without attacking him. And I had to learn how to listen to his experience without automatically believing that his feelings somehow invalidated mine. Mike had his own things to unlearn, too. I grew up in a single-mother household, watching my mom carry the weight of being both mother and father — something I can only imagine was incredibly difficult without a partner beside her to lean on. Mike grew up with both of his parents in the home, but that didn't necessarily mean he witnessed a healthy marriage either. There was plenty he knew he didn't want to repeat in a relationship of his own. We came into our relationship carrying different experiences, different wounds and different ideas about what love was supposed to look like. Neither one of us really had a blueprint for the marriage we wanted to create. So, we had to make one. And it took us years. --- There was stumbling. There were arguments. There were difficult seasons. There were things we had to learn individually and things we could only learn together. But somewhere along the way, we stopped trying to win against one another and started learning how to stand beside each other. And I think that may be one of the most important things our children are witnessing now. They aren't growing up believing that a healthy marriage means a perfect marriage. They've seen us disagree. They've seen us stressed. They've watched us navigate financial struggles, difficult decisions, exhaustion, frustration and circumstances that neither one of us knew how to fix immediately. But they've also watched us sit at the kitchen table and talk. They've watched us apologize. They've watched us listen to each other. They've watched us support one another when one of us is struggling. And they've watched us approach the difficult things in our life as **our problem to solve together**, rather than turning against each other. But I also think they're learning something else. They're learning that love can still be fun. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/1b/dc/1bdc8757-c365-47ad-a8a1-c2b68ef4cfa9/content/images/2026/09/801044250_1077074068500023_6550975390030407728_n.jpg) After more than two decades together, Mike and I still genuinely enjoy each other's company. We laugh. We joke. We play. We date each other. We flirt. We dance in the kitchen. We make time for just the two of us. And yes... We kiss in front of our children. Much to their apparent horror. For a long time, I think there's been this idea that once you become parents, everything becomes about the children. And of course our children are one of the greatest priorities of our lives. But I don't believe loving our children requires us to stop prioritizing each other. Actually, my experience has shown me the opposite. Whenever Mike and I become more intentional about our marriage — when we spend more time together, reconnect, date each other, talk more, laugh more — our entire family seems to benefit from it. Because strengthening our marriage isn't something we only do for ourselves. There is a ripple effect. The relationship at the center of our family affects the atmosphere surrounding it. And our children are watching. They're watching when Dad hugs Mom in the kitchen. They're watching when Mom reaches for Dad's hand. They're watching when we disagree and still speak respectfully to one another. They're watching when one of us has had a difficult day and the other quietly steps in. They're watching us laugh until our stomachs hurt. They're watching us choose each other again and again. And although they might roll their eyes and yell, “Ewww!” when they catch us kissing... I hope a part of them remembers it. I hope someday, when they are choosing partners of their own, something inside of them recognizes what love should feel like. Not because their parents had a perfect marriage. But because they grew up watching two imperfect people continually choose to create a healthy one. --- I hope they know that disagreement doesn't require disrespect. That love doesn't require shrinking yourself. That communication sometimes means having uncomfortable conversations. That your partner cannot read your mind. That being a team doesn't mean always agreeing. That you should genuinely *like* the person you're building your life with. That decades together don't have to mean simply existing beside one another. That you can still flirt. You can still play. You can still date. You can still get butterflies. And maybe most importantly, I hope they understand that the love they accept should feel safe. When I look at what Mike and I have built together, I'm incredibly proud of us. Not because it has been easy. But because it wasn't. We've experienced things throughout our life together that could have torn us apart. And we certainly didn't have all the answers. We didn't have healthy marriages in front of us showing us exactly what to do. We had to figure much of it out ourselves. Sometimes we got it wrong. Sometimes we hurt each other. Sometimes we had to admit that the things we learned growing up weren't things we wanted to carry forward. And then we had to do the work of choosing something different. Again. And again. And again. The marriage we have today didn't happen accidentally. The family we created didn't happen accidentally. There has been intention behind it. And perhaps that's one of the things I'm most proud of. Two people who weren't necessarily shown the kind of love they wanted managed to learn how to create it together. And now our children get to grow up watching something we didn't. --- Sometimes I imagine Mike and me many years from now. Older. Hopefully still holding hands. Still laughing. Still annoying our grown children by kissing in the kitchen. Except maybe by then, there will be grandchildren rolling their eyes too. And I hope we get to watch our children build families of their own. And someday, maybe we'll watch their children do the same. And perhaps little pieces of what Mike and I worked so hard to learn will continue moving through all of them. A healthier way of communicating. A safer way of loving. A willingness to repair. A little more laughter. A little more affection. A little more dancing in the kitchen. Because maybe breaking generational cycles isn't only about identifying everything that hurt us and refusing to repeat it. Maybe it's also about intentionally creating something beautiful enough to pass down instead. And if someday I walk into one of my children's homes and hear their kids yell... “Ewww! Mom and Dad are kissing again!” I think I'll know we did something right.