Friday, March 7, 2014
Something less than Romantic
I suck at romance. I am a bit too much of a pragmatist.
I am into love. Totally. I use it as my guide post for everything in life. I try to make my words loving my actions love filled and my responses love based. Love is the yardstick by which I measure success.
My long suffering husband gets this. He knows I would much rather have a small box of chocolates that he planed ahead to get me than a massive, 5 lb assortment that he ran out to get the morning of our anniversary. I put "thoughtfulness" way higher on the list than "romance".
Matt brews my coffee most mornings. He brings me breakfast in bed sometimes on the weekend, especially after I have had a long night with the baby. When he really wants me to feel loved, he sweeps and mops the dining room. He plugs in my cell phone so that it doesn't die, something I never seem to be able to remember to do. He does the dishes EVERY NIGHT because he knows floaty things in dish water totally give me the woo. He brings me flowers because he knows how much I love the look of fresh flowers on the table. He gets up early with the kids each morning knowing how I hate the early hours.
And watching him love our kids makes me fall more and more in love with him every day. There is nothing sexier than a good man being an amazing father.
So I guess this great guy will just have to settle with a girl who just can't seem to be romantic, at least not in the candle light and soft music way. Instead, I will make him his favorite dinners, wash his dirty socks and clean up all the trimmings he seems to miss while shaving without complaint. I will put fresh sheets on the bed and make sure his side is how he likes it before I fall asleep, I will bring him lunch when he is too busy to remember and I will do my best to raise our kids to fall in love with or become a man like him.
And, maybe on a good day, I will write some sappy words in a card and get us a nice bottle of wine, just to keep things interesting.