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Archive for February, 2012

What is love?

Those who follow me on Facebook already know about my stellar Valentine’s Day gift from Husband.  He swung by the local spa on his way home from work to pick up a gift certificate for a massage.  The spa was closed.  So, I wound up with Twizzlers.  In a handy reusable pencil holder.

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‘Cause nothin’ says I love you like a pencil holder.

Seriously, though, I’m in the “It’s a Hallmark Holiday” camp and don’t really feel the need for senseless money to be spent on Valentine’s Day.  I know Husband loves me.  He knows I love him.  And, I think it’s the conversations and moments that we share on the days that aren’t commercialized that really matter.

For instance.  I was making dinner a few nights ago.  The kids were watching a movie in the living room, sitting together in front of a fire in the fireplace.  Husband and I were in the kitchen, each enjoying a glass of wine.  Dinner would be ready soon and we’d sit, as we always do, at the kitchen counter and watch Jeopardy! together over dinner.  We’d give our answers out loud, acknowledge a particularly good get by the other, make snarky comments about the contestants and usually, by the time Trebek was shaking hands with the winner, we’d be cleaning up and getting ready to put the boys to bed.

I don’t know what made me say it.  Maybe it’s the fact that a friend of mine is going through some really tough marital struggles right now.  Maybe it was the simple comfort of my own home.  The ease of the night.   I’m not sure.   But, as I stirred pasta, I looked at my husband and said:

Do you remember when we were dating and we asked each other if we’d ever been in love before?  

Yes.

And we both said that yes, we had been.  

Umm hmm.

I think I’d change my answer if you asked me today.  If I was ever in love before you.  I don’t think I’d say yes anymore. 

How come?

Because I think that back then I really had no idea what really being in love felt like.  No idea what it really was.  What it could be.  I mean, back then, before you, I was so uninvested.  Love was such a simple, blank canvas.  And now, it’s like love is something else entirely.  It’s me and you as a family.  It’s those kids.  It’s our home.  Our LIFE.   None of this is anything without you.  Without “us”.   Love is just so different today.  It just means so much more.  It’s so much more valuable.  You know?

Husband agreed completely.

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Dinner was delicious.  We were happy to see the “College Tournament” come to an end.   Husband and I each put one of our sleepy children to bed with a bedtime story and a kiss.  Then, we met back in the living room.  As we settled into our chairs next to each other, the fire burning out slowly in the fireplace, I looked lovingly over at the man I married almost ten years ago and thought…

Man.  I really wish I had some Twizzlers right now.  

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M-I-L-K

Dinner time.   Big and Little Brother take their seats.  Plates in front of them.

Mom from kitchen:  Guys?  What would you like to drink — milk or water?

Big Brother:  M-I-L-K!     M-I-L-K!

Little Brother:   M-I-L-K!   M-I-L-K!

Overheard from kitchen, Little Brother quietly to Big Brother:

Is M-I-L-K milk?  Or water?

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Last year, on March 1st, I blogged about a stomach bug that had taken over my home.  Well, as CarolAnne once said….”they’re baaaaack”.   And that’s all I’m saying about it because it’s gross.  You’re welcome.

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As I mentioned in my last post, we’ve got some family division going on with the Pats-Giants Superbowl.  Again.  Big Brother is Team Pats with me.  Little Brother Team Gmen with Dad.  Well, now that Big Brother can write, he and his Dad have been leaving notes around laying claim to which team has the most family support.  The fish and the dog are now critical participants.

Dad’s Signs

Big Brother’s Signs

I said he could write.  I didn’t say he could spell.

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In other news…I just love coming into the bathroom to discover this.

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 I’ve started a Pinterest new board called “Pins I Just Don’t Get”.  My first pin was Tom’s shoes which are so trendy right now and so UGLY always.  Sorry if you own them and love them.

No, you’re not.  You look like a grandmother.  With duck feet.

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