Rediscovering Romance
Anyone who knows me also knows that I'm a hopeless romantic, much as I may wish to dispute it. I love a good love story, emphasis on good. I crave moonlit walks and handwritten letters of affection. I enjoy listening to romantic songs, even some of the really sappy Disney ones from bygone years. I love flowers and chocolates and those small gestures that whisper, "I love you." I look forward to my sweetheart waking me gently each morning for a kiss and "I love you" before he goes to work and then falling asleep to the sound of those words whispered lovingly from the other side of the bed. Underneath the garden gloves, hiking boots and blue jeans, I truly am a hopeless romantic.
Anyone who knows my wonderful husband knows that he is many things, but romantic isn't necessarily one of them. He's thoughtful and caring, loves me no matter how crazy I am and is the best father in the world (except maybe for my own). But he's just not romantic.
I think we all reach a stage in our marriage where the romance seems to fade a little. We still love and admire our spouse, but the quirks we found endearing in our courtship have perhaps grown irritating and the flaws we graciously overlooked start glaring out at us. Perhaps it's not that the romance fades, but reality becomes a little clearer.
I'll be honest enough to admit I've hit that. That's hard to admit, but it's true. Don't misunderstand me, I love Jonathan with all my heart. But for a while now I've grit my teeth when he's home late. I've lamented the lack of visible gestures. And I've had pity parties over how unromantic my husband is. Mostly, I've missed date night.
If you're thinking that I sound whiny and immature, you're right. I have so much to be grateful for that I shouldn't have time to be whiny and immature. But, I'd be willing to bet you've done it too. Don't we all at some point lament what we perceive as lacking in aspects of our lives? Whether relationships, occupations or milestones yet unreached, there always seems to be something.
After whining for a few days, I grudgingly admitted to myself that I was being unfair. I knew when we were dating that my sweetheart was not the hopeless romantic I envisioned myself with as a teenager. He does try, and every now and again he surprises me, like the time he texted me during the middle of the day to say he loved me. He couldn't have known that at that precise moment I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown because I had overbooked myself and was panicking about how I could possibly accomplish everything without some kind of support. Or the times he hugs me and calls me, "mi querida reina" even though I'm sweaty from the kitchen, my hair is a mess and I smell of spit-up because our baby has an upset tummy.
But it isn't fair for me to wish he'd come home spouting sonnets about my beauty or carrying the entire floral shop's inventory just because. It's not in his nature and that's okay. I realized that if I wanted our relationship to maintain the starry-eyed romance of our courtship, I was going to have to take the lead.
I was going to have to change.
Instead of lamenting everything my husband isn't, I needed to start celebrating everything he is. So he's not going to come home with flowers every night. But he does always ask me how my day was and ask how he can help. He's probably not going to write me love poems, but he does occasionally write me little notes. And he forgets sometimes to plan date night. With living in a small town and having three young children, that can be challenging. After all, there aren't any nice places in town to eat and the nearest "fancy" restaurant is half an hour away which also means trying to find a sitter.
But just because there's no where to go, doesn't mean we can't have a romantic evening. My husband and I love musicals and one of our favorites is Phantom of the Opera, though the book truly is better. Anyway, I decided to create a night out at home. Getting it planned was challenging and I got some marvelous help from Shanna Hatfield's new group of Hopeless Romantics on Facebook. After all, my hubby would never belong to that kind of group, allowing me the chance to bounce ideas around and get suggestions. And then my plans had to be pushed off a couple of times due to sick children. But I was able to pull it off yesterday. As I busily worked to get our restaurant and theatre clean and ready for the big night, my children did what they could to help. We made theatre tickets and I wrote a little note to put with them in an envelope on our door. I got dinner made, utilizing my crockpot to give more time for other necessities. And all the while, I stopped feeling so sorry for myself. I was going to have a romantic evening with the amazing and wonderful love of my life. I couldn't wait to see his face when he came home from work. With only ten minutes to spare, I finally managed to sneak away to my room to change into something a little nicer than jeans and a slobbery tee-shirt. My hair had been in bobby pin curls and for a while I fought with them to make them look nice. (I don't know about you other ladies, but when I curl my hair half goes into super amazing ringlets and the other half stays flat and uninteresting. So frustrating!)
As I prepped the salad, I heard the screen door open. Then silence. For a moment I panicked. Did my husband think I'd gone to an actual restaurant? Surely he'd noticed the minivan in the garage! Then the doorknob slowly turned. With a bright smile I turned to my very own Prince Charming. We enjoyed a fairly quiet dinner while our children were thrilled to have a date at their little table. They even got their own candle! When dinner was finished, the kiddos helped Jonathan get the dishes washed and we put them to bed with a movie in their room on my laptop. Then we enjoyed our movie together.
The evening was perfect and as I reflected on it, I thought about how different things are when you change your perspective. I wondered how our ancestors kept the romance alive. There were no restaurants or movies. And it struck me that they did the little things for each other. Perhaps he brought home some fresh wildflowers from the field on a summer day. Maybe she made his favorite dinner, just to say "I love you." They didn't go out. They didn't have fancy dates. Their love survived on the simple things done at home. They kept their romance alive with small gestures and soft words. It was the little things that spoke volumes about the affection they felt for one another.
Perhaps my sweetheart is more romantic than I give him credit for.
One thing is certain, as I embrace what makes him so wonderful, I stop pining for that supposed romantic I wished for in high school. Instead I appreciate the unintentionally romantic man I am so blessed to be married to.
So just for the record, Jonathan, I love you.
Anyone who knows my wonderful husband knows that he is many things, but romantic isn't necessarily one of them. He's thoughtful and caring, loves me no matter how crazy I am and is the best father in the world (except maybe for my own). But he's just not romantic.
I think we all reach a stage in our marriage where the romance seems to fade a little. We still love and admire our spouse, but the quirks we found endearing in our courtship have perhaps grown irritating and the flaws we graciously overlooked start glaring out at us. Perhaps it's not that the romance fades, but reality becomes a little clearer.
I'll be honest enough to admit I've hit that. That's hard to admit, but it's true. Don't misunderstand me, I love Jonathan with all my heart. But for a while now I've grit my teeth when he's home late. I've lamented the lack of visible gestures. And I've had pity parties over how unromantic my husband is. Mostly, I've missed date night.
If you're thinking that I sound whiny and immature, you're right. I have so much to be grateful for that I shouldn't have time to be whiny and immature. But, I'd be willing to bet you've done it too. Don't we all at some point lament what we perceive as lacking in aspects of our lives? Whether relationships, occupations or milestones yet unreached, there always seems to be something.
After whining for a few days, I grudgingly admitted to myself that I was being unfair. I knew when we were dating that my sweetheart was not the hopeless romantic I envisioned myself with as a teenager. He does try, and every now and again he surprises me, like the time he texted me during the middle of the day to say he loved me. He couldn't have known that at that precise moment I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown because I had overbooked myself and was panicking about how I could possibly accomplish everything without some kind of support. Or the times he hugs me and calls me, "mi querida reina" even though I'm sweaty from the kitchen, my hair is a mess and I smell of spit-up because our baby has an upset tummy.
But it isn't fair for me to wish he'd come home spouting sonnets about my beauty or carrying the entire floral shop's inventory just because. It's not in his nature and that's okay. I realized that if I wanted our relationship to maintain the starry-eyed romance of our courtship, I was going to have to take the lead.
I was going to have to change.
Instead of lamenting everything my husband isn't, I needed to start celebrating everything he is. So he's not going to come home with flowers every night. But he does always ask me how my day was and ask how he can help. He's probably not going to write me love poems, but he does occasionally write me little notes. And he forgets sometimes to plan date night. With living in a small town and having three young children, that can be challenging. After all, there aren't any nice places in town to eat and the nearest "fancy" restaurant is half an hour away which also means trying to find a sitter.
But just because there's no where to go, doesn't mean we can't have a romantic evening. My husband and I love musicals and one of our favorites is Phantom of the Opera, though the book truly is better. Anyway, I decided to create a night out at home. Getting it planned was challenging and I got some marvelous help from Shanna Hatfield's new group of Hopeless Romantics on Facebook. After all, my hubby would never belong to that kind of group, allowing me the chance to bounce ideas around and get suggestions. And then my plans had to be pushed off a couple of times due to sick children. But I was able to pull it off yesterday. As I busily worked to get our restaurant and theatre clean and ready for the big night, my children did what they could to help. We made theatre tickets and I wrote a little note to put with them in an envelope on our door. I got dinner made, utilizing my crockpot to give more time for other necessities. And all the while, I stopped feeling so sorry for myself. I was going to have a romantic evening with the amazing and wonderful love of my life. I couldn't wait to see his face when he came home from work. With only ten minutes to spare, I finally managed to sneak away to my room to change into something a little nicer than jeans and a slobbery tee-shirt. My hair had been in bobby pin curls and for a while I fought with them to make them look nice. (I don't know about you other ladies, but when I curl my hair half goes into super amazing ringlets and the other half stays flat and uninteresting. So frustrating!)
As I prepped the salad, I heard the screen door open. Then silence. For a moment I panicked. Did my husband think I'd gone to an actual restaurant? Surely he'd noticed the minivan in the garage! Then the doorknob slowly turned. With a bright smile I turned to my very own Prince Charming. We enjoyed a fairly quiet dinner while our children were thrilled to have a date at their little table. They even got their own candle! When dinner was finished, the kiddos helped Jonathan get the dishes washed and we put them to bed with a movie in their room on my laptop. Then we enjoyed our movie together.
The evening was perfect and as I reflected on it, I thought about how different things are when you change your perspective. I wondered how our ancestors kept the romance alive. There were no restaurants or movies. And it struck me that they did the little things for each other. Perhaps he brought home some fresh wildflowers from the field on a summer day. Maybe she made his favorite dinner, just to say "I love you." They didn't go out. They didn't have fancy dates. Their love survived on the simple things done at home. They kept their romance alive with small gestures and soft words. It was the little things that spoke volumes about the affection they felt for one another.
Perhaps my sweetheart is more romantic than I give him credit for.
One thing is certain, as I embrace what makes him so wonderful, I stop pining for that supposed romantic I wished for in high school. Instead I appreciate the unintentionally romantic man I am so blessed to be married to.
So just for the record, Jonathan, I love you.
No comments have been added yet.
