I'm kind of a hopeless romantic. I think I'm getting worse as I get older but large, showy, fabulous acts of romance in movies or things I hear about in real-life usually leave me misty-eyed, or completely bawling. Bold, descriptive declarations of love make my heart skip a beat, even if they aren't directed at me. Love letters, flowers, songs, dancing....it's just all too much for my heart to bear at times....it's just beautiful.
Then I met Philip. For those of you who have met Philip....bold, descriptive, declarations of love aren't his thing. In fact, the first time he tried to propose to me (I didn't realize he was trying to propose) he said: "Yeah, I think I could marry you. You're adequate."
Yes, he used the word adequate. At the time I was horrified. But now it cracks me up because that's just how he is.
This bothered me for a long time. I knew he loved me and I loved him very much, but I couldn't understand why he couldn't remember birthdays, anniversaries, I mean....if you love someone, don't you want to proclaim it to the world?? Don't you want to remember every little detail, every moment and celebrate them all the time?! I do! When I think about my husband, I still get butterflies, my heart races...sometimes just seeing a picture of him or getting a smile from across the room makes my knees weak. There is this overwhelming feeling of devotion and dedication to him and there are times when I feel like "I love you" doesn't encompass what I'm trying to express to him. I write him love letters, cards, make him gifts, all those things all the time. I just feel the need to constantly express my love to him....ALL THE TIME.
But he's not that way. And honestly, I just didn't understand.
So I learned, and adapted. For my birthday last year I asked for stainless steel mixing bowls and a teapot. He got me an knife and an iPod. (My mom got me awesome mixing bowls!). For Mother's Day I asked for a teapot and a clean kitchen. He got me a gun. I asked for a teapot again this year. He gave me money to pick out a really nice purse.
Before, this would have bothered me. A LOT. But knowing Philip I know why. I make tea all the time, without a teapot so he doesn't see the need for it. But he saw I needed a knife for my purse because I was always asking to use one of his. He saw I needed an iPod because my phone's MP3 function skipped a lot when I ran or worked out. He saw I needed a gun because I was getting ready to take a CHL class and he wanted me to be protected when he wasn't around. It's really quite thoughtful when you know the reasons behind it.
In the beginning of January we found out we were expecting our second child. The excitement quickly turned into horrible all-day sickness. I immediately began losing weight and battling daily to keep food and water down. My usually in near-perfect condition home slipped into a disaster area. Andrew became great friends with the electronic babysitter while I well, y'all already know what I've been doing.
It's been a little over six weeks since I found out I was pregnant. My hair is falling out, I've lost almost 12% of my body weight, I've had one ER visit and I highly doubt it will be the last one. I haven't cooked a meal in over a month and a good day means I get the bed made, I get the floors vacuumed and maybe a few dishes washed.
On top of working 40 hours a week, Philip has taken over housework, meals and Andrew. My parents have helped tremendously in the Andrew department as well. Friends have graciously brought meals over and helped clean house. My in-laws stayed for a week and scrubbed my house from top to bottom. But the rest has fallen on Philip.
He's learned quickly how to help me. He brings me peanut butter and apple slices (my staple food), he surprises me with a 20oz bottle of coke or lemonade...both of which help settle my tummy with a few sips. The nausea is the worst at night and in the morning. In the mornings before he leaves he gives Andrew breakfast and puts a show on for him so I can focus on resting or whatever I need to do. At night he puts Andrew to bed, then comes to bed with me and scratches my back or plays with my hair so I can relax and fall asleep. He does laundry, he washes dishes, he takes Andrew for walks.
He helps me shower when I can't stand up. He helps me through the gross things and then cleans up for me. He leaves in the morning and I'm in my bathrobe, hair in a mess and looking horrid...he comes home in the afternoon and I look the same way and he still gives me a big smile, a kiss and he looks so happy to see me and come home to me.
It may not be some bold, descriptive declaration of love. It may not be the stuff the best romance is composed of, but it's love. I appreciate this and I'm more moved by this than anything else he could possibly do to declare his love for me. Our wedding vows said for better or worse and while this probably won't be the worst of the worse, so far it has been one of the more difficult things we've been through together. As I watch marriages around me fall apart, I'm more and more and more in love with my practical, logical man every day.
I relayed this to him the other night, almost in tears as I expressed my gratitude and thankfulness. In typical Philip fashion he responded with a grin, "Don't worry, one day I'll be old and you'll have to take care of me. You know, change my adult diapers and stuff."
Sigh, romance is so not his strong point.