There are certain things you shouldn't talk about.
But if you know me at all, you know I will.
Tastefully, I hope.
Because they are important. Very, very important.
Saturday, as you may know, was a full day plunked on the end of a string of many full days. We had babysat the night before, and that morning I was at rehearsal by 9AM. The rest of the day was spent moving our friends, and at 5:30 we headed home. It was date night.
We had no cash.
We had no energy.
We felt like saying "forget it".
We decided to just stay home and watch a movie.
Guy hopped in the van to drop our kids at the sitter's, and I looked around at the joint. The train wreck of a week had left debris and dead bodies all over the place (well, smelly shoes, at least).
Then a thought came to me. An unwelcomed thought planted itself into my conscious from a place clearly outside of my foggy brain. It said:
"You need to show your husband know how much you love him." It was accompanied by the image of a romantic greeting in a candlelit room, a kiss, and a back massage for my equally worn out hubby.
I looked down at my dirt smudged clothes. My tired mind-chatter whined, "Really? Tonight? I am soooo tired." I argued that there wasn't time to do anything nice, and that I had put in a long day doing things for others. I deserved a night to myself. Besides, Jonah was here. Tonight?
I set Jonah down and switched into what my friend Melissa calls "Laine Mode", more like a reverse tornado than anything. I whipped through the living room gathering toys and dead bodies. Next, I grabbed handfuls of votive candles and dropped them into glass dishes and cups, distributing the light through the room till a flickering glow warmed every corner. I laid out massage oil, two glasses and the last bottle of sparkling cider from New Years. I was flying so fast, I was really working up an oh-so-sexy sweat. Hustling, I washed up and replaced my stinky moving clothes with something lacy, and then doused myself with sweet smelling amber (because perfume is kind of like a shower, right?). Except for almost breaking my neck while running to answer the phone when I tripped over the massage stuff, everything came together -dare I say- elegantly? I had just enough time to put on a Nora Jones CD and to pick up a fussy Jonah to dance with him, when Guy walked through the door.
His smile said it all.
"I was picturing coming home to a scene like this." He crooned.
And I am so glad I made that picture real for him. We all deserve to have moments like they show in the movies. And my husband, (and probably yours) deserves to be treated with kindness, respect, love, and adoration. I want this man that I chose to stay with "to infinity and beyond" to look forward to an eternity with me. There are so many ways that I don't measure up to the picture I have in my own head of what a good wife and mother should be, but in the same way telling your kids that you are serving ice cream for dinner would be met with a glowing reception, there are some very simple ways to get the same reaction out of the person that is supposed to be your sweetheart.
Everyone deserves to be cherished.
Jonah fell asleep, and lets just say we never watched a movie.
Date night was awesome.
I deliberated over whether or not to share this little tale, but I will tell you why I did; I know many people who are unhappy in their marriages. I know many couples who, long ago, stopped treating each other as best friends, or even as friends at all. I know wives who boss and nag, or even scold their husbands as though they were one of the children.
It's kind of sad.
We have so much influence on how happy our husbands are in our marriages, and when our husbands are happy, they want us to be happy. It is the golden rule, and it is so very basic. We are the ones who make it complicated.
Valentine's is coming.