A Nap, a My V-Day Shower, and a Dry Wish List Toilet Seat By Holly Hester
hen my husband and I were first dating, we took Valentine’s Day very seriously. Preparation took months. Love letters were gut-wrenchingly written, romantic getaways were meticulously planned, and rose petals and glitter were bought in bulk. By the time February 14 rolled around, we looked like we were reenacting the final episode of The Bachelor. But 13 years and three kids later, our Valentine’s Day has changed, well, a little. My husband still tries to be romantic, but handing me a dozen roses from Safeway while I stand in my hoodie and sweats surrounded by screaming children doesn’t exactly me make feel like I’m living in a Shakespeare sonnet. So instead of trying to recreate a Valentine’s Day that we can obviously no longer achieve, I’ve thought of some other gifts of love.
For a whole day, I don’t want to sit on a wet toilet seat. This gift of love will be given to me by my two sons, who, although very strong, can’t seem to muster the strength to lift a toilet seat.
I would love my husband to clean something. I don’t really care what it is—kitchen, bathroom, a
couple of forks. Just watching the man grab some gloves and a spray bottle would be so hot. At this point in our marriage, sweeping me off my feet starts with sweeping the floor.
I would like to wear something white again without fear of the item getting completely filthy within five seconds. This gift of love will be a group effort brought to me by my children and our three dogs.
I would like to take an uninterrupted shower. Oh, the bliss of shampooing my hair without breaking up a fight between my kids about who launched the invisible booger first. I don’t need a romantic spa vacation anymore. I just need a better lock on the bathroom door.
I would like a nap. Right in the middle of the day, I’d like to say, “I’m outta here,” and then just fall over wherever I’m standing. I’d wake up rested, refreshed, and appreciative of the other Target shoppers who are quietly stepping over me.
I would love my husband to take over the family schedule for the day. I imagine him walking up to me, pulling me into his arms, and whispering in my ear, “The kids have a park play date at 10, then we have dentist appointments at 1, and I’m
thinking chicken fingers for dinner.” Oh baby, you had me at chicken fingers… .
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I’d like some jewelry. Just sayin’, in case the other stuff seems too hard.
And maybe a Zappos gift certificate, you know, to go with the jewelry.
I’d like to eat a meal without someone sitting on me. Bonus love points will be given to anyone who doesn’t try to grab food off my plate. (This includes my husband.)
But most of all on Valentine’s Day, I’d like my children to wrap their sticky hands around my neck and tell me they love me. I’d like my husband to text me just to say he’s hoping I’m having a good day. I’d like our dogs to look at me like I’m magic when I pull a dog bone out of the pantry. Because those are the little things that make me feel truly loved. Those are the things that make me feel like everyday is Valentine’s Day.
And if somebody wants to give me a cutout paper heart that says, “World’s Best Mom,” I’ll take that too. Holly Hester lives in Sebastopol and writes about life on her blog, Riot Ranch. Find her book, Escape from Ugly Mom Island!, on Amazon.
February 2016 www.sonomafamilylife.com