The Texas Mama

It’s that time of winter. Time to dig out the razor. I am pretty sure I had it out in December around our anniversary. I’m also pretty sure it’s been unpacked by now (most of the house is, thank you very much).

Valentine’s Day takes on a whole new connotation when you have kids. Or in our case, a Hali.  Gone are the days of romantic evenings waiting for an hour or more to get into some national chain that calls itself a restaurant.  Gone are the days of greeting the husband in sexy lingerie when he comes home from work.  Gone are the nights of,well, you know what comes next.

No, we are fat married people with a child now. Valentine’s Day usually goes something like this:

-Hali and I make scrumptious deserts to ensure that her parents’ waistlines don’t shrink any.

-Valentine’s Day crafts of many varieties going on to keep Hali happy and entertained while we are on our all day sugar high.

-Make a nice(ish) dinner for the three of us

-Jeremy comes home brandishing gifts for Hali and I. Last year, I got a toaster. I feel it’s safe to assume this year will be better.

-I force kindly ask Jeremy if he would either clean up after dinner or give Hali a bath so that we might have  five minutes after she is asleep and before we fall asleep in which we may celebrate the holiday properly as adults.

-He whines. I whine and glare. He rolls his eyes, grabs Hali and head upstairs.

-Hali finally falls asleep after a whole day of consuming sweets.

-The romantic feeling of the day? Not so much by now.

Pessimistic? Maybe. Realistic? Oh ya. I know I am not alone here.  I suppose when your kids are older things are a bit better. You can probably just lock them in their rooms with a box of matches to keep them busy for the night and only feel marginally bad about it later.  But by then, the husbands have gotten used to not being forced or guilted into being romantic for the one entire night a year where it is actually expected. It’s a lose-lose situation really.