A Tale About V.D.

Valentines Day that is.
(sicko)
Yesterday was Valentines Day. I used to go to dinner with my husband. We would go out and sit and quietly talk. Have a couple of drinks, eat dinner and then hold hands walking back to the truck. Awww. So sweet.
This year, I did a load of laundry that my one year old had puked all over the night before. Then we went to the laundromat to wash a load of stinky dog bedding . (Is that wrong of me to refuse to wash dirty dog blankets in my own washing machine? Probably so, but please refer to #2 on my list of things that keep me up at night.) After we came home, I bathed the kids, my husband bathed the dog and we ordered Chinese.
Oh how far we've fallen. Or have we? I actually loved our Valentines Day. Just that morning, I was feeding the baby and my husband came down the hallway pushing my 4 year old in front of him. The kid who has no problems yelling for me over and over when I am on the phone, or sitting and farting on me (yes, I know) all of the sudden had become shy and didn't want to approach me. My husband continued to guide him into the family room and up to me, and he bashfully handed me a Valentines Day card and a box of chocolates. It was so cute. Sort of like when you see your puppy poop outside for the first time and not on your favorite rug. All that newspaper whacking finally paying off. It was nice to see my little terror acting like the sweet boy I just know he is. Quiet dinners will only take you so far. Puke and laundry and cards signed by 4 year olds. Now thats the stuff that stays with you.