Valentine's Day, Dumbed Down

I knew this wasn't going to be much of a Valentine's Day.

I knew we didn't have any time.

When Valentine's Day falls on a Monday, it gets tricky for a lot of people. For us, it seemed unlikely that we'd even lay eyes on each other.

I knew we didn't have any money.

When the Fates (or whoever) noticed us put all our current funds toward catching up on some bills, they decided to strangle our van. In a family the size of our family--with two working parents, the minivan is as vital as another member of the family. This weekend, we scraped up all the residue in our accounts and got the van fixed. Just so we could both keep working this week--no really important reason.

Then, on Sunday, the resuscitated van got a flat tire.

Not that we minded.

Paul put the donut on last night and said he'd try to get to the tire place today. I have enough PTSD that the idea of anyone speeding down the freeway with my baby inside a broken-in-any-way vehicle gives me daymares.

I didn't want to nag him, though.

So, my hope throughout the long day as I worked was--not that someone would appear with flowers for me, not that I would find some chocolate on the seat of my car--but that my sweetheart would find the time and the money to get the van tire fixed.

When your fondest wish for Valentine's Day boils down to, "Please don't kill the baby," you know you've been married a long time. Or something.

I'd be curious to know what Freud would make of it.

Anyway.

I did get to see Paul's face, because he was thoughtful enough to drop by my office and bring me my water jug and almonds, which I had forgotten to bring to work when I left in the dark this morning.

When I got home from work, a lovely baked ziti was in the oven. Roasted asparagus, seasoned cauliflower, and another vegetable dish were waiting on the stove. Some silk roses (still a mystery) were sitting in a vase we already owned on the kitchen table.

He had picked up something I needed from the pharmacy so that I wouldn't have to.

He had run errands to take care of the kids' needs.

All the children were alive and well.

And I know he'll come home tonight and another day pretty much like today will start all over again. And another, and another, and another.

And that is romantic enough.