Maybe that’s why we’ve never been happier than when we tip-toe over to the crib and stand there with our arms around each other, watching our daughter sleep.
“Can you believe we’re married?”
It’s a question my husband Merritt and I have asked each other often in the last almost two years. It seemed too good to be true. Best friends for so many years, finally being married to each other made our cup truly overflow.
The other night, as we lay there exhausted from a long week, trying to tune out the baby crying in the cradle next to us, I whispered to Merritt, “Can you believe we’re married?”
This time it was with a tired chuckle that he answered, “Yes.”
Yes, diaper bags and burp cloths are now an ever-present reality for my Valentine and me. Our terms of endearment now include “Daddy” and “Mommy.” Our moments of quiet alone are few and far between.
Even though Merritt is still my first priority, that often means feeding Ruth first so I can focus on him. Acts of Service may not be the primary love language for either of us, but it’s become the love language of parenting together: Merritt changing Ruth’s diaper in the middle of the night so I can close my eyes for a few minutes, me putting away her toys and blanket so he doesn’t trip over them when he comes home.
But the beauty of parenting along with your Valentine is that we have as much fun talking about potty training and where to put the crib as we did making house plans and swapping favorite Country love songs.
Last Thursday found us in Hallmark, because Merritt had a coupon he wanted to use. I offered to carry the baby seat while he shopped, because I already had a stash of Valentines I’d bought before we were married. We found my mother-in-law back in the bargain room, buying a baby rattle for Ruth. (Did we want the pig or the giraffe? We chose the pig, because it would go with all her other farm animal toys.) So our worlds of romance and parenthood often meet.
Being married to your Valentine doesn’t always mean cards, chocolates, and roses. Flowers and cards don’t always fit in the budget, and chocolate does nothing to help those extra pounds of baby fat disappear. But an extra-special dinner served on his favorite dishes, followed by a quiet candle-lit evening on the couch can turn any day into Valentine’s Day at our house.
Being married to your Valentine brings out the romance in the practical things of everyday life.
Maybe that’s why the Valentine card I’m giving him this year has a scandalous little ditty about how nice it is to see his clothes on the clothesline next to mine.
Maybe that’s why, when he’s propped up in bed reading the latest Little Britches book aloud to me while I rub his sore leg, I lose track of the story for a moment while looking at the man I adore.
Yes, I can believe we’re married.
That’s why it’s still too good to be true.