My Funny Valentine
Last year, on Valentine's Day, my husband and I enjoyed a quiet, romantic dinner that included three different types of cheese, imported meats, bread, crackers, wine, pomegranate liquer, and--of course--chocolate (a heart-shaped box). Then we stumbled off to bed and.. well, a little more than 9 months later our son was born.
This year, I packed up said son in three layers and a Baby Bjorn a day before the holiday, braved a bitter wind and temps in the 20s, to shop at the same little cheese shop (so to avoid the long trek in the snowstorm that hit today). Then I bundled my son and myself up again today and trudged through piles of dirty snow, while being pelted with freezing rain, to pick up heart-shaped cookies and tarts and a fresh baguette. We've got the wine--more than half-a-dozen bottles actually--but a fear of drunken breastfeeding has made sharing a bottle more stressful than soothing these days. We're more apt to split a beer (and, to be honest, it's been so long since I drank that half a strong beer is plenty).
In two hours, while my husband heads home from his black-belt karate class, I will carefully slice up the cheese, apples, meat, and bread and set them out on plates. I'll dim the lights, and slip the card I got my husband onto the place setting. I'll set out two wine glasses and the box of cookies and tarts. All of this, of course, I will probably do with one hand--since my other will be supporting my son in my arm. And then, if I'm lucky, I'll sneak in a quick shower.
And then, if we're really lucky, my husband and I might actually be able to toast, and have a few sips and bites together, before the near nightly ritual of passing our restless (or screaming) baby back and forth while the other spouse eats begins.
...A few hours later:
Well, the reality was, our son cried for so long that I didn't get a chance to prepare dinner or myself for my husband's arrival. And by the time he walked through the door, I was about ready to walk out of it. But after a long shower, a big hug from my husband, and a small glass of beer, I remembered how it felt to be a wife again--and not just a harried mother. And the flowers and chocolates that my husband brought home helped too.
This year, I packed up said son in three layers and a Baby Bjorn a day before the holiday, braved a bitter wind and temps in the 20s, to shop at the same little cheese shop (so to avoid the long trek in the snowstorm that hit today). Then I bundled my son and myself up again today and trudged through piles of dirty snow, while being pelted with freezing rain, to pick up heart-shaped cookies and tarts and a fresh baguette. We've got the wine--more than half-a-dozen bottles actually--but a fear of drunken breastfeeding has made sharing a bottle more stressful than soothing these days. We're more apt to split a beer (and, to be honest, it's been so long since I drank that half a strong beer is plenty).
In two hours, while my husband heads home from his black-belt karate class, I will carefully slice up the cheese, apples, meat, and bread and set them out on plates. I'll dim the lights, and slip the card I got my husband onto the place setting. I'll set out two wine glasses and the box of cookies and tarts. All of this, of course, I will probably do with one hand--since my other will be supporting my son in my arm. And then, if I'm lucky, I'll sneak in a quick shower.
And then, if we're really lucky, my husband and I might actually be able to toast, and have a few sips and bites together, before the near nightly ritual of passing our restless (or screaming) baby back and forth while the other spouse eats begins.
...A few hours later:
Well, the reality was, our son cried for so long that I didn't get a chance to prepare dinner or myself for my husband's arrival. And by the time he walked through the door, I was about ready to walk out of it. But after a long shower, a big hug from my husband, and a small glass of beer, I remembered how it felt to be a wife again--and not just a harried mother. And the flowers and chocolates that my husband brought home helped too.
posted by Jennifer @ 3:22 PM
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