There’ll be no dozen roses, or candlelit dinners and I’d be weirded out if there was; the little things that all add up to love are what count for me.
I’m pretty sure the kids like tangible treats so they’re getting ridiculous glasses and some Love Hearts sweets. In return I get adorbs artwork.
Forget hot air balloon rides with champagne; here is the official run down of things that happened this week that mean something between me and the fella I married.
- He bought me tickets for my birthday to go see one of my favourite bands from my teens: Suede. I was into them at a time when he was all about Motörhead yet this week when the gig rolled round he sat beside me probably not embarrassed at my lyric-recall powers.
- He made the school lunches on thursday night. That’s a bit pathetic that I count that in the romance column of our marriage ledger. I had made them the other four nights but it’s a task I dislike so much that any reprieve is noted.
- Much as I love to watch Ireland play in the Six Nations, the enthusiasm doesn’t stretch to the Under 20’s on a friday night. I suggested we watch About Time on Netflix instead, and he did not protest one jot. It helps that Dumble Gleeson (go to 1:18) – who can do no wrong in our eyes – and Rachel McAdams (think he might fancy her a bit) star and that it’s from the reasonably reliable Richard Curtis school of nice-English-people-and-an-American-bumbling-about films. What? It’s a genre. Lets forget Love, Actually though. I hate Love, Actually). I cried unsurprisingly. I guess lots of people do but it’s got the dad-cancer trigger which is bound to set me off. Sorry. It’s not really a spoiler. Anyway, him indoors liked it.
- He suggested we get Indian for dinner. That was no big sacrifice on his part but it’s my absolute favourite. I would happily bathe in Saag anything.
- I got up this morning and he was gathering swimming gear to bring both children to the pool. Lessons aren’t on this week, and he’s a member of a fancy place where the lads can go free but there’s no guest passes for wives. Oh no… So instead I got to go for a run and drink coffee in peace and eh, write this. Added bonus, that’s the children washed for the next week.
Incidentally, I had hoped for all my couch-hours this weekend to be spend under a giant Netflix Night In blanket like some of my parenting blogger colleagues (shout out to Sadhbh’s audacious use of her granny). Instead this is all I have. My blanket has been keeping the local delivery office cosy for three days now. I think. Maybe my postman is snuggled up under it eating popcorn and toblerone with the missus. If he is, I hope he gets the ride. It’s the weekend for it.