Anti-Anti-V-Dayer (oh, crap, that's a double negative).

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I have the best husband in the world. Not only did he think I was the perfect person for him for the rest of his life, but he also thought I was the best person to start a family together. And when The Boy arrived, I was incredibly lucky my husband was able to take three weeks off for Paternity Leave. Our fathers worked in an age where once the kid came out, it was right back to work. The concept of Paternity Leave would have been laughable. And when The Boy’s colic began to rear its pterodactyl-esque screeches at two weeks of age, Rob was super responsive and would leave work early here and there to save me from the potential disaster of Mommy + Colic Baby + Sleep Deprivation + Baby Blues = I Don’t Even Want to Imagine the Outcome. And now, as we struggle with our daily lives of working full-time, caring for The Boy, keeping a clean house, eating well, blah blah blah, he still manages to keep it together, help with the housework (i.e., he cleans while I watch The Boy…all I really do is laundry, and I suck at it), AND cook delicious dinners (because if the meal planning was up to me, it would end up being a rotation of cereal, brinner*, soup, and sandwiches). *Brinner: breakfast for dinner. If it wasn’t for him, I would have lost my mind a long time ago (even before The Boy). I struggled with depression on and off for years, and he was able to help me out of that hole, time and time again (and he stuck with my crazy ass!). If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have an etsy shop. He gives me plenty of time to work on things for the shop, and what do I do with it? I sit on my ass and watch Fashion Police or Storage Wars. Needless to say, my time management skills could use some improvement. Rob and I were a united front when it came to Valentine’s Day. We were anti. We began dating at my Anti-Valentine’s Day party in college (yes, the irony is blatant). Every year, I make Anti-Valentine’s Day cookies, complete with snarky remarks piped lovingly on each one (I am making them tonight and will post the snarkiness later). And every year, we boycott the holiday. Except for the one year I got roses, but that was because the flower shop in Rob’s building ordered too many and had to have a fire sale on roses. Believe me, I was definitely excited to get the roses, but more excited that he didn’t pay an arm and a leg to buy me flowers. And then The Boy arrived. And everything changed. Haters on V-Day say instead of showing your love on one day that you should show your love every day of the year. I do agree with this philosophy, and Rob and I say “I love you” every day of the year. But when you’re time-strapped, sleep-deprived, and your brain is full from being pulled in a gazillion different directions, the dynamic of your relationship changes. It’s not necessarily bad, it’s just different. Marriage is a lot of work in general. Marriage with children is a lot of work, uphill. Sooooo now this year, I am becoming a turncoat on the war on Valentine’s Day. Sorry, fellow soldiers. Rob and I may be strapped on a lot of things: money, sleep, gadgets we want, but TIME is the thing that we never have enough of. And taking time out of our crazy schedule to express love for one another is something that really makes a statement. So what did I get? A kick-ass red Timbers jersey! Best. Husband. Ever. I got Rob a zombie Lego minifig, and I planned a weekend of manly activities (going shootin’, brewing beer, drinking) when The Boy and I are out of town. It’s no flowers or chocolates, but that’s who we are. Besides, flowers die and chocolates get eaten.  

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