How I came to be called Princess

Today is a day for lovers the world over. A day to show the one you love how much you love and appreciate them.

Valentine's Day reminds us, in a very profound way, that love is alive and well in our world, cynics be damned. Whether it's through cards and flowers, a wonderful, home cooked meal or an expensive restaurant, or an evening-long cuddle on the sofa watching a great movie, as long as the love between you is celebrated, it doesn't matter how, does it?

My honey took our daughter and me out for dinner last night, because our daughter had plans with her boyfriend for V-Day. He wanted to take both his girls out (the ones he lives with, as there is another daughter,) so he did it a day early. When we got into the car, we found Valentine's cards on our respective seats, propped up, lovingly addressed to: My Sweet Little Valentine (daughter) and To My Princess Valentine (me.) Each had a beautiful, handwritten message, from his heart.

Just briefly, let me tell you how I came to be called Princess by my sweetheart.

I am of an age to remember the old sit-com, Father Knows Best, with the consummate father, Robert Young. He called his oldest daughter, Betty, Princess all the time, which as a young teenager, I thought was the best thing a dad could do.

I went to my Dad and asked him to call me Princess, to which he answered, "Your name is Tina and I'll do no such thing." I'd like to say that it didn't hurt, but it did, mostly in the tone he used and the scowl on his face. Never did get used to that combination. It was one in a very long list, so even a minor slight hurt like the devil.

So be it, I thought. I stuffed the rejection down deep and went on.

Years later, my sweet, darling husband and I were talking and I told him that story. In true Sir Galahad fashion, he whipped a figurative crown around from behind his back and placed it upon my head, dubbing me his Princess for all time, an honor I don't take lightly.

He rarely ever uses my name, usually only when talking to others about me, and always calls me Princess when talking to me. I'm his Christmas Princess, Valentine Princess, Birthday Princess, and any other variety he might decide.

To have that long ago hurt healed instantly by this caring man defies description. He is the finest human being to ever walk this earth, dubbed so by official Princess edict.

He's turned every bad situation into a good one just because he was there to see our family through it. He's funny, loving, gentle, strong, a cook that could rival even Gordon Ramsey, humble, and most importantly, all mine.

Now, you ask, is he my Prince? Yes, he is. But more, he's my heartbeat, my soul, my everything. He puts a smile on my face, a lilt in my step, and more importantly, he's never let me down, ever. I write because he supports me, I'm a better Mom because he's by my side and he lets me be who I am, without reservation.

Let me share a poem he wrote for me when we first started dating. It sums up how we live our lives:


Letting
Letting you be youAnd letting me be meHas brought about this thingWe do so naturally.
Without the slightest effort Or tension on my partI reached down deep within my soulAnd offered you my heart.
You in turn repaid me,With love of equal kind.The sort you seek forever, And often never find.
So it's not hard to pictureHow such a love could be,Just letting you be you And letting me be me.


Happy Valentine's Day
Till next time,Luv,Brita