|my husband, the human red hot|
This morning was a whirlwind of oversleeping, gathering the wash, checking to make sure the kiddo was on the mend, changing sheets and conducting a sniff test for any item within a four foot radius of the scene of the crime. I ran out the door slapping quick kisses on both my boys. It wasn't until I was alone in the relative quiet of the street that I remembered today was Valentine's Day. I thought of the chaos of the night before, the sound of my husband gagging as he stripped the baby of his clothes, how the duckling, in a clean diaper and Halloween themed pajamas, wanted to show his dad the skeleton bike on his shirt before going to bed, how my husband was the last to sleep, rubbing the baby's belly in the dark until he settled and how he let both me and the baby sleep in past the alarm this morning.
I'm sure I couldn't sell it to Hallmark, but there's something romantic about making a home with a man who loves his family, isn't afraid of a little baby vomit, and gives his pregnant wife the chance to sleep. I'll take all of the above over flowers any day.