November 03, 2009


I realized this morning that everything I thought I loved about "romance" is all smoke and mirrors. When Kamron and I first started dating, we were so attached at the lip hip, it would make you sick. We were one giant cliche: candlelit dinners, walks at sunset, picnics in the park. Basically we were like the little highlight montage from a romantic comedy. And I LOVED it! I am such a sucker for romance. I am not sure why but we just don't do those things all that often, anymore. I mean, seriously, how practical is it to incorporate fire into the dinner routine when you have kids who are obsessed with blowing out candles? But while I think those things are great, I decided this morning that somewhere along the way, I've gotten a whole new, crazy, warped up view of romance.

Take this morning, for instance. We had something happen in this house that makes me know beyond a shadow of a doubt that that boy loves me. Five days ago, I saw a mouse. It was tiny. It may have even bordered on cute. But I freaked the heck out. I threw the kids in the car and trucked it to Walmart, pronto. I stocked up on traps and poison. Now usually, I am all for the ethical treatment of animals. Heck, I have even been a vegetarian at a few points in my life. But mice just get my germy, OCD phobias in a wad. Hence the poison. I'm pretty sure I would have called the ghostbusters if I thought they were available. I came home, set the traps, spread out the poison (WAY out of reach of small children, pets, etc.) and waited. And waited. And waited. Days went by and this little mouse tormented me. I refused to walk around the house without my shoes on. I was scared to open the cabinet doors. I would get in bed at night and nearly have panic attacks thinking that the mouse was going to crawl on me in my sleep. And now that you think I am completely nuts... This morning I dropped Sadie off at school, came home and sat down at the computer to check my email and there it was... That tiny little mouse in all his mousy glory was sitting in the middle of the floor. I started screaming and totally pulled an "I Love Lucy" move and jumped up on the chair and refused to get down. I kept staring at that mouse. It was barely moving. I was pretty sure he was almost in a poison induced coma, but I wasn't taking any chances. I was yelling for Kamron to come help me. And from out of the bedroom, in walks my knight in shining armor brandishing Noah's potty chair. In one fell swoop, he trapped that mouse under the potty chair and well, let's just say he took care of it.

Now- in my warped mind- that really spells love. Taking care of the situation when he knew I was too chicken to. And another thing that spells love- getting up with the kids. NOTHING warms my heart when the kids start running around on the weekend like those little words, "Just lay down, I'll take care of it."

Or changing a poopy diaper without me having to ask. Or ironing his own shirts. Or throwing in a load of laundry. Or saving the last Diet Pepsi for me. Or watching him read books to the kids. I am not sure when it happened. Maybe it's almost 10 years of being together or maybe it's two kids later. But I'm pretty sure I like this version of romance a whole lot more than the cliche.

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