Awe Saint Valentines Day.
The day where couples celebrate their love with romantic gestures or extra special acts of love and kindness.
It’s 6am and I just changed my boys crappy nappy.
Valentines is a day to do something a little special for the one that you love. It may be a little too commercial nowadays, but it’s still nice to be a little spontaneous and celebrate with a bit of extra luvin.
I just asked my wife if she could change baby T’s nappy. Don’t say I never let her do anything.
Some people will make breakfast in bed so their other half doesn’t have to rush around for just one morning a year. A morning off, if you will.
I threw a box of Cheerios at my wife as she slept soundly in bed saying “breakfast is served” as two out of three children clamber over her to get to it first, whilst I jump into the shower, avoiding what looked like a scene from 300 as Leonidis takes on a million Persians.
Someone’s going to have to clean that up.
Downstairs I look at the flowers I bought, as their colours start to converge thinking, I really should have bought some more for this special day. Those guys are two weeks old and getting a little past it.
We run around getting the troops ready for the day ahead. Lunch box packed? Uniform on? Water bottle filled? With intermittent shouts of “FINISH YOUR BREAKFAST” or “leave your brother alone”. Teeth being scrubbed, we look at each other with a look that only a loving couple can give “I’m not f&@king changing him again”
Kisses all round as we pack the clan into the van and head off to school, nursery and I’m not sure where else. Lots of “I love you’s” and “have a great day’s” as we part ways. Loving smiles and waves as the clan leave the drive.
I can finally have a cup of tea, nice and quiet, calm like, all on my own on the decking, looking out over the glorious sea in front of us. I think how thankful I am to have received a present such as these five minutes this Valentine’s Day. I need nothing else.
Fast forward 8 hours, the brood arrives home. I finish work. We will start to make dinner together. One dinner for us all to eat as we’d be to tired to make a “special” meal later. One child is helping chop the paneer so well, but, upon turning around we realise he’s put it into the aforementioned flower vase and filled that with washing up liquid. We’ll be eating half portions tonight then.
The eldest is sliding himself along the floor to the dinner table in what resembles a slug sliding over broken glass. The little one sleeps.
Food is served, we sit down to eat. The baby wakes. She needs some food. My wife skilfully one handed attaches her to her bosom and in what looks like a finely balanced act that could perform at Barnum and Baileys she manages to eat her dinner. She can’t see the middle one approaching from the side to swipe the “best bits” directly from her plate.
We throw everything in the dishwasher, we cleanse our mini me’s. I think to myself, why didn’t she get me a jet washer this Valentine’s Day? It would make this process so much easier.
Battle commences to get PJ’s actually onto our children as suddenly, they all seem to be descendants from a family of octopusi, as we try to get various limbs into the right holes.
Bed time stories ensue. Goodnight kisses all round. I cuddle one, Bex takes the other two.
I wake up at about 1 am thinking, oops, shouldn’t have gone to sleep. Would have been cool to watch that movie together that we’ve been talking about doing for months. I check in on my family, all soundly snoring away.
I think to myself, I’m one lucky mother f&@ker and how i wouldn’t change any of this for all the gold in the world.
I lean over bex lovingly, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead “happy valentines my love” I whisper as she turns over to say, “can you change her nappy please?”
Happy Valentine’s Day my most wonderfabulous of pals.
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