This one goes out to the one I love

Recently a friend came to visit who is recovering from a breakup of a long term relationship. In the standard girlfriend re-hashing at my kitchen table, one of the missing pieces of the relationship was the absence of romantic gestures by her ex, until the end when the relationship was in jeopardy. I’m not going to go into the details (that’s for her blog, should she want to start one) but the bottom line is that it’s not about fantasy dates and roses, it’s about thought.

As I listened to her, my initial reaction was to think about my own relationship, and let me tell you, Josh is no fantasy date planner. He’s not a big flower guy, or into big romantic gestures of any kind. This doesn’t bother me, but I kept thinking should it bother me?

But then I started to think some more.

I think about the fact that every time Josh drives “my” car, he makes sure that he fills up the tank. He does this despite the fact that his natural inclination is let the tank go as low as possible so he can calculate the mileage. He does this because he knows that I start to get nervous at a quarter tank, and sometimes I forget stuff like filling up the car.

I think about the thousands of poopy diapers that Josh has changed due to my being unable to lift Jacob onto the changing table (in the first weeks of his life, as well as the last weeks of this pregnancy and double duty-doody?-in the last 6 days). And not only does he change the poopy diaper, but I hear them giggling together during the changing. It’s more about the two of them and not about Josh and me, but is there anything more lovely than a man who can laugh his way through shoveling poop? Is there anything more lovely than seeing that the man you love and have chosen to spend your life with is a good father, in addition to all the other great qualities? I don’t think so.

The other day, we were driving home from the pediatrician’s office and Jackson Browne came on the radio. I was musing about how I tend to like every JB song that comes on the radio, but have never made the next logical step of either buying an album or downloading his songs to expand our relationship. This morning, I didn’t get breakfast in a bed of roses or a balloon ride through the Napa Valley followed by a picnic of wine and chocolate, but I DID get an Itunes playlist of Jackson Browne. And did I mention that Josh was a college DJ? My point is that for me, the fantasy date/gift, is one that says that my husband is listening to my monkey brain offhand comments, and knows me well enough that I’ll never get around to buying that album, so he does it for me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. I love you with all my heart.