S-t-e-a-k, W-W-E, and f-a-r-t are the various ways I get to spell romance at my house. Before you get grossed out, remember I have boys ages 8 and 10 and a hubby that hangs right with them. Last Valentine’s Day I found a fart book, complete with names, descriptions, and sounds of various flatulence. This book ranks highest on the “must read” list in my house before the Goosebumps and Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. Valentine’s Day has changed for me. I remember waiting, hoping and praying the “man of my dreams” would create the perfect dinner, date, or getaway, but now my wants are simple. Not because I’m not a romantic and my hubby hasn’t lost it either, but my romantic needs have changed.
I don’t want Target, Macy’s or 1-800-flowers to remind my hubby he loves me or that I love him. But I have learned that love doesn’t mimic the latest romantic comedy, but it’s there if you look. And I see it every time my hubby puts the seat down, picks up his dirty underwear, takes our boys to school, makes their lunch, or tells me, “you relax, I’ve got dinner,” then proceeds to order pizza. Just putting the seat down is good enough for me. Growing up with four brothers, I have had many “double-dips” in my life. And to declare my life dip free feels so good! This Valentine’s Day as I prepare all of my boys’ favorite meal, get out the candles and the china plus shave my legs, I’ll look lovingly into their eyes and give them something they can appreciate. I’ll let out the biggest burp I can. Happy Valentine’s Day, may yours be free of bodily functions!
