Consider this post to be a valentine's day encore.
I was supposed to post this on valentine's day, but I was too busy.
to busy loving?
Nope. Just your usual running around and taking care of Mom-stuff.
Maybe that qualifies as loving too.
Right.
I was to busy with all the loving.
*snort*
I have been married for over a decade now.
Yes wow, I know. Thirteen years.
Nothing about being married that long is romantic.
We do love each other and occasionally he does give me the butterflies.
Sometimes.
Most of the time however,
I get to watch the love of my life scratch his butt,
pick his nose or do other unromantic man stuff.
Whether I like it or not, that cute guy I couldn't stop thinking about,
whose smile made me weak in the knees,
at the end of the day he is still a boy.
And boys are disgusting.
Somehow, I forgot about that,
when in moments of temporarily insanity I wanted to be with him forever.
But I can't complain (much.)
I am a realist and even though I had to learn the hard way,
that life is not a romantic comedy, this is life.
In real life people don't walk around hand in hand all the time,
and they don't make wild and passionate love every night.
Married life is not a romantic picnic.
I do think I am lucky, I have a sweet loving husband that is all mine,
he brings me flowers and helps me around the house.
He has seen me at my worst and he has seen me at my best, and still loves me.
Valentine's day evening,
I will be sitting on the couch watching a movie next to my husband,
who will probably curl up next to me put his arms around me,
and fart do something typically male.
