Musings of a Mommy

So I am an avid reader. I read just about anything I can get my hands on (minus textbooks – boooring!).  And, I have a particular fondness for romance novels. Not the Harlequin romance novels, which are basically porn. No, the common “girl meets boy, they fall in love, something bad happens, boy makes grand romantic gesture to win girl back, girl swoons, and they live happy ever after.”

So, I’m waiting for my grand romantic gesture.

I thought my marriage proposal would be grand and romantic and it probably was. However, considering Matt really proposed (minus the ring) one night after I had a lot to drink, I can’t really remember that proposal. I’m sure it was lovely, though. The ring proposal was okay. Not super romantic, unless you count me lying on a hotel bed, exhausted from hoofing it around Manhattan, watching some comedy thing on TV, and Matt bending on one knee, with a ring we had received from his mother earlier that day and asking, “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” (It still makes me giggle every time I think about it.) as romantic.  Not exactly a Rhett and Scarlet moment.

I thought that the day I gave birth would have some romantic gesture attached. Matt would look over at me with a tear in his eye after I pushed out his daughter (will full makeup and not breaking a sweat) and say something extremely touching. Not exactly. After pushing for 2 hours and the pain associated with something the size of a watermelon coming out something the size of a lemon (quote reference to “Look Who’s Talking, thankyouverymuch), I had a romantic moment with the cause of said pain – Lexie and an even more romantic thoughts with the Percocet I was given afterwards – lets be honest, the Percocet wins the award that night.

So I’m still waiting. And as I read another romance novel with the hero finding out his girlfriend is pregnant at 20, and rushing out to get his grandmother’s ring out of the safety deposit box, rushing back in at dinner (that included both families) and dropping to his knee to give a huge speech that made the heroine swoon….I realized how completely stupid romance novels are. I mean, seriously. If that scenario happened, the hero and heroine would have at least a week of nervousness and anxiety and the families wouldn’t beam their congratulations – they’d be pissed!

So I started thinking about how maybe the grand romantic gesture I’m waiting for is just not practical. Matt isn’t what I would consider to be a Rhett Butler (sorry Matt) but he does so many small things that show me love. Small things that no one else would think about. Maybe instead of big things, it’s really the little things.

It’s the times he lets me sleep in on the weekends because I ask him to.

It’s like tonight, when he walked in to me, frazzled, and Lexie in time out because she spilt milk everywhere  and hit me, dinner halfway done, and the house a complete wreck. He offered a beer, took Lexie, and straightened up the house.

It’s the kiss I receive every morning, without fail.

It’s when he says, every night, “I love you honey,” before we go to bed.

It’s when he tries really hard to think of perfect presents for me.

It’s when he listens to mundane, insignificant things, thoughts, and complaints day in and day out, without complaint.

So maybe the grand romantic gesture isn’t there or isn’t coming but maybe the lesson is that it’s the small things that count.