Delusions about love
Yesterday I had to be in two places nearly at once. It was only by proper planning (dinner before we left and snacks for the second gym) and the kids not being assholes (they all got into the car without yelling at each other!) that I was able to even accomplish it. (Shout out to MC Hammer for being on the radio so we could dance in our seats.) At 6 I finished teaching my regular class and by 6:30 I was ready to teach another class at a gym in another town, with the kids in tow. Usually I ask Matt to grab the kids when I fill in, but daycare was open until 8 at the second gym, and one late night wouldn’t break them. And, frankly, Matt needed a break.
Later he thanked me for going with the flow and taking the kids along with me instead of asking him to help.
And that’s what love is.
We’ll be celebrating 10 years in August. I can say with 100% certainty that when I first got married at the age of 21, I thought I knew what love was. I thought it was flowers and romance and date nights and deep conversations. But when Valentine’s Day would come and it wasn’t some extravagant gesture and I didn’t get flowers thrown at me for no good reason, I got upset and frustrated. I’d look at other peoples’ marriages and wonder what I was doing wrong. What was wrong with our marriage?
But then, finally, somewhere after Luca was born, and I wasn’t handling motherhood that well, I saw it.
Love was watching Matt take the kids to the park so I could have some alone time. Love was coming home to a cooked meal after a long 12 hour shift. Love was sleeping in on a Tuesday just because.
The moment I stopped comparing myself to what I was told I had to believe to be true about love, I realized that Matt and I have our shit together. Matt is who he is, and one thing he is not is a guy who is a romantic. He’s the guy who plans things a day in advance. The guy who sends me youtube clips to cheesy country songs that remind him of me. He’s the one who keeps me from imploding.
Do I like getting flowers just because? Sure. But they die. And Matt knows that that makes me sad. So instead he brings me home donuts.
Do I like date nights? Heck yes! But sometimes it’s just easier waiting until the kids go to bed and have an in home date night. I like to reserve my babysitting needs for things like Luca’s vision therapy, doctor’s appointments and that one time we’re invited to go to a party.
And it’s not all about me. I show Matt I love him by mowing the lawn so it’s one less thing he has to do and more time he can spend with the kids. I even overcame my fear of the attic and stopped nagging at him to get stuff down from there, when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself. But I still stand by the fact that I swear that’s where all the stink bugs live.
I started taking my car to the shop for maintenance instead of making him waste a day to get it done. I keep the house clean and somewhat organized and I even do the laundry now. (True story, he did all the laundry until we moved it to the second floor about 5 years ago.)
I guess what I’m trying to say is, is that love doesn’t have to be so difficult. Once I stopped trying so hard and took a good look around, I realized that I’m most definitely loved and it shows. I have two dogs and three cats and he’s an asthmatic who is allergic. He just takes his meds, and grumbles at me every now and again, but my roomba Alfred keeps it pretty clean around here so he can’t really complain that much.
Plus, when he comes home and we have a foster kitty or six in the house, he is only mildly irritated. Especially since the cats always love him the best.
And every morning he wakes up before me and gets the kids lunches made and feeds them breakfast and doesn’t laugh at me when I dance around the kitchen to really bad pop music.
Sometimes he even joins in.