The Oven Mitts

Brad and I will celebrate our 15 year wedding anniversary later this year. I remember our first Valentine's Day together when we were dating. There was dinner and roses and a fancy gift that came in a blue box with white ribbon. It was romantic and special.

Fast forward about 10 years later.

We were in the throws of young parenthood; Brad working all day with 700 kids and me staying home with 2 babies all around my feet or attached to my hip while I'm trying to cook dinner and muddle through the witching hour...you know...the hours between naptime and dinner time when all the babies are fussy for no apparent reason. And we are all waiting desperately for daddy to just come home from work already. Because we miss him. And we need him. And mama needs at least one free hand to get this dinner on the table.

Finally! We hear the garage door open on that fussy Valentine's Day. I am rescued at last!! Daddy is home.

He walks through the door and all the littles run/crawl to greet him. He gives my weary cheek a kiss and pulls a surprise out from behind his back. Unwrapped and with the Walmart tags still on, it was a pair of oven mitts.

Because he remembered my off hand remark about needing a new pair of oven mitts. He listened and remembered. And it was the most romantic Valentine's gift I ever received. Yes, even better than the one in the blue box.

We don't make a big deal of Valentine's Day. We never really have. Now we try to do something special together as a family. But I will always, always, always remember that particular Valentine's Day because to me, that is what love for the long haul looks like.