Feb 13, 2014 - By Clair McFarlandBut this Valentine's Day, there is plenty of love
With Valentine's Day imminent, we face a time during which a couple must discern the state of its union, romance and material priorities.
For instance, the sleepy columnist-mommy with two-week-old twins and a pair of pre-school age children at home must ask herself whether any quantity of chocolate and roses could compare to going for a walk alone or retiring to bed early for some extra sleep.
(Likewise, The Husband may be wondering if sharing a restaurant steak would be as nice as my condensing the household laundry duties into a span of time small enough to allow him a date with the washing machine and his most cherished Seahawks garb.)
My first instinct, upon writing such things, is to scold myself for being an unromantic wife. After all, perhaps now is the best time for The Husband and me to throw our money and time at all the pretty material garbage that heralds Valentine's Day. Then we could celebrate a holiday that seems more fitted for couples who are rested enough to be so wild about each other that they fight all the time and then write love/hate songs for mass-production and broadcast on watered-down country radio.
You're not in love unless you're obsessed with your love, right?
Wrong --I think.
I'm no expert on this: I've only been married for nearly five years.
Yet, if I may assert even such a limited experience as my own upon the topic, I would say that the joint endeavor --completely devoid of idleness and drama --in which The Husband and I now find ourselves is a more accommodating groundwork for love.
Let me not get too sappy. This is still hard work. I have been known to let him sleep through nights of baby insomnia. He has been known to endure my record-breaking mood swings, as well as incorporate the word "placenta" into his working vocabulary for my sake.
We're a good pair, but that doesn't come from charm and diamonds --it comes from routine and effort. It's also not as boring as it sounds.
Therefore, it seems we're dumping Valentine's Day for the time being. We're going to relax at home with our children on Friday, and maybe give the babies their first bath while our older boys crowd into the bathroom and test its decibel capacity with made-up songs and ninja sounds.
Our reasons for shunning the holiday of outward romance are vast, but I'll provide a few:
For one thing, we won't have much need or desire to leave our entire awesome brood with a babysitter until the twins are older (and it is nice enough outside for The Husband to take me out for target shooting).
For another, we are still very preoccupied with the tasks at hand, and we're maintaining our focus despite the Valentine's Day hype.
And we know that we love each other --and like each other --even without chocolates and roses and drama.
Comfort and affection are found amid simple and trying domestic challenges. Because with difficulty comes cooperation, and reliance.
Such concepts aren't great ingredients for a love song, but they're pretty good ingredients for love.
And I promise that was the only corny Valentine's Day metaphor you'll catch me using this week. Now I'm going to sleep.
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