How Two Burritos and One Pint of Ice Cream Hold a Marriage Together

I look forward to Saturday nights. I’ve looked forward to Saturday nights pretty much since our first son was born over four years ago. Saturday night is burrito night. And ice cream.

When I tell people that we get takeout every Saturday and eat it without our kids, I get mixed reactions. Some say it’s brilliant. Some seem concerned that we’re skipping out on a family dinner. I just know it works.

Having kids was a shock to our collective system. We wanted them more than anything and were utterly unprepared for how hard it would be. Two people experiencing the same situation very differently. High-stakes parenting decisions made on no sleep. Chronic exhaustion that quietly turned us against each other at exactly the moment we needed to be on the same team.

The focus shifted to who was doing more and who was being lazy. Connection and respect were replaced by comparison and resentment.

One thing we did agree on was that we missed a slice of normal. For us, normal used to mean takeout and binging a show. So we made Saturdays takeout nights.

The rest of the week we tried to do all the right things, like balanced meals, limited screens, and staying attuned to our kids’ emotional worlds. Saturdays, though, were for us. No matter what was happening, even if we were furious with each other, we fed the kids, put them to bed, and sat on the couch with burritos and ice cream.

Sometimes we barely spoke. Sometimes we stared at our phones. Communication was not required. In fact, it was kind of discouraged, unless it was something like, “Look at this meme.” It was, and still is, glorious.

Recently, we attended a couples workshop based on the Gottman Method. John and Julie Gottman are a married couple who have spent decades studying what actually makes relationships last. In one exercise, we were each asked to identify a ritual of connection that is important to our relationship.

“Rituals of connection” are exactly what they sound like: boring, repetitive moments that create stability. A kiss goodnight. Coffee together before work. Saying the same “hi, hon” when someone walks through the door. They aren’t emotional or profound. And they’re essential.

We both chose burrito night without hesitation.

Even in our lowest moments, when childhood wounds were activated and defenses were blazing, we both knew where we would be on Saturday nights. And we both knew we wanted to be there. That dumb, predictable routine has probably done as much to soothe our nervous systems and reinforce our bond as all the deep breaths, I-statements, and in-depth processing we’ve done over the years.

That’s not to say we didn’t need those tools. We did, and we still do. But those burritos laid the foundation that made the rest of the work possible.