A few days ago we celebrated Valentine’s Day, and something happened at the breakfast table that still makes me smile. I set the table with small packages for each of the guys, adding cards from Grammy and candy from Grandma. The boys enjoyed their treats, and then Felipe looked at my place at the table, puzzled, and said – “Mom. Your Valentine? Is laundry?”
It wasn’t a typical Valentine’s Day, to be sure. Both Kyle and I were a bit weary from a long week of parenting, feeling like we’d been practicing more tough love than romance. Our creativity had been spent on survival, our money on groceries. We were working through issues with at least one grumpy teen, and Cupid was not on our radar.
But at the end of the day I could honestly say, it had been my best Valentine’s ever. I was in love.
I remember years ago receiving counsel about marriage and parenting. I can’t remember now if it was a friend, or a book, but the advice was this. Love your spouse most. The core love of family is husband and wife, and all other love flows out.
Good advice then, and now.
The challenges of these past weeks have made us one. More than ever. Truth be told, we’re a little desperate for each other.
That’s not to say we’re altogether desperate. In fact, there’s a lot of love flowing out. I watch my husband playing and loving on a houseful of boys and my heart swells. I see brothers bonding, more every day, and I thank God. My own affection for each of my sons is growing by the minute, and I know my prayers are being answered. Our new normal is rooted in love. I can breathe easy, knowing this.
Even Valentine’s Day ended better than expected. A friend invited all the boys to spend the evening watching slam dunks on TV, and we were free. An entire evening to ourselves. We considered joining the mobs dining out, but quickly rejected the idea in lieu of time alone. At home, together. Enjoying our love.