Tag Archives: valentine’s day

Ode to Shmerson

14 Feb

We interrupt this blogging hiatus to bring you a special Valentine’s Day post.

You’ve held my hair as I heaved over the toilet and we both cheered.

You’ve cleaned up my puke when I couldn’t make it there on time.

You’ve taken Luna out for every walk in the last 3 months.

You’ve stared at me protectively and ordered me to sit when you felt I was doing too much.

You’ve washed every dirty dish in the house.

You’ve cooked dinner while carefully avoiding the food I can’t manage to look at or stomach.

You’ve held my hand, and wandered through hospital corridors to make sure I felt safe while trying to help our baby boy.

You’ve cried with me when we’ve been afraid for him.

You’ve laughed with me, and cried tears of joy (and sometimes tears of fear) each time we’ve seen him on the ultrasound screen.

You’ve told me I’m beautiful almost every night, even while I was feeling fat and gross (and you looked like you meant it, which makes it all the more remarkable).

You’ve lamented not being a sea horse, so you could carry some of my burden.

Each time I’ve cried about my body failing me, you’ve reminded me that it’s working a miracle for both of us as we speak.

Each time I think it’s impossible to love you more, you surprise me and make me fall in love with you all over again.

Happy Valentines Day, my amazing husband. The father of our lost children, and of the little boy that will come into our lives in a few months. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.

PS – Thank you everyone who’s emailed and tweeted to check in on me. I’ve been terrible about replying, I know, and I’m sorry. I’m still in a bit of a coping-zombie-bubble. Hope to be back with all of you soon. Xoxo!

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Anniversary Week Post 2: Valentine’s Day Becomes Moving Day

20 May

So Shmerson and I were moving at a pretty rapid clip. Our “Zero Date” happened on January 16th, and by January 22nd, there were already declarations of love on both sides. He had this ratty apartment with two roommates that was walking distance from his University, but we spent about three (maybe four) nights a weeks together at my place. By Valentines day, it was even more than that.

Then came Valentine’s Day itself. Shmerson planned a really nice evening out, and had brought a small rolling suitcase with him because he was planning on spending the weekend.

Oh! But before I continue this story – I must tell you of a shopping trip which happened a few days earlier. A legen- wait for it and I hope you’re not lactose intolerant – dary shopping trip. Just because it gave birth to a line that I will forever be trying to find a way to work into a script, but for now, I guess the blog will do.

I knew Shmerson was planning something big, so I decided to surprise him by wearing some sexy number under my dress. So Squish and I went lingerie shopping.

We were at a bit department store looking at lingerie, when we stumbled upon some ridiculously cute boxer and tank top sets with mickey mouse on them. And they were on sale.

We both looked at the sets longingly and debated. I mean, we love Disney, but at the time, Disney was being disappointing in terms of their films, plus – there was high school musical, and Miley Cyrus. So we were definitely in a moral dilemma about whether we wanted to pay into the big Disney corporate machine.  A heated discussion ensued. Finally, we decided that it was ok if we each bought a set, as long as we “wore it ironically.”

And that’s when the phrase “ironic underwear” was ingrained forever into my consciousness. Hopefully now it’s ingrained in yours as well. Use it well, dear readers, use it well.

Ok – back to our story. I bought a sexy red number along with the ironic underwear, and I was ready to go.

Shmerson came to pick me up with the rolling suitcase, and a stuffed bunny holding a heart in tow. Wearing black velvet pants. Yes. Black velvet pants. For him, at the time, that was considered “fancy.” I’m happy to announce that I threw away the black velvet pants during our first closet purge a few months later. But I forgave him the pants at the time, knowing that soon enough I would be doing most of the clothes shopping for him anyway. Men who buy black velvet pants are officially banned from shopping for their own clothes. (This is actually a very nice arrangement. I buy him semi-preppy rocker clothes, he looks hot, and he hates shopping anyway).

So, a nice evening was had. We went to this great little wine bar and got particularly smashed. The red lingerie was an unmitigated success. Shmerson slept over, and he never really left.

About a month later we realized that he had only gone to his apartment a couple of times to pick up stuff after valentines day.

So there never really was a “moving in” conversation. It was pretty much – “Oh, so I guess we live together now.”

“Yep, I guess so.”

“You Ok with that?”

“Yep. You?”

“Yep. Though – Maybe you should officially move out of that other place – you know, to save on the rent.”

“Yeah, I probably should. But let’s wait another month or so before I do. I think my parents would freak out.”

“Ok.”

(He called them two days later anyway, told them we were living together, and they did indeed freak out. They asked him to keep the other apartment for a couple more months. And he did. But by that time we had already adopted Luna, so it really was just to appease them. They’re kind of conservative, in the – we’re not sure our son should move in with his girlfriend after they’ve only been together for a month – kind of way).

The first several months of our living together were pretty happy and uneventful. I do remember at one point realizing that I was playing the happy housewife and freaking out a little. I even wrote him a love letter which ended with the sentence: “You made me bake cookies!”

That is indeed a dramatic statement coming from a reformed feminist. And that was only the beginning of my descent into wanting to be a 50’s housewife. But I think that part of the story (which involved my screaming uterus, and we’re not talking about that) may be for another time.

Tomorrow – how a trip to Philly made me finally understand what “home” really meant. 

For My Shmerson

14 Feb

Dear Shmerson,

This will be the fourth Valentines Day that we have spent together, and our first as a married couple. Tonight, instead of going out to someplace fancy, you will be working and I will be at a yoga class, or sitting at home, watching something silly on TV.

Last year on this day we were eating dinner at a way-too-expensive restaurant, and deciding on a DJ for the big day.

Last year, on the outside we were perfect.

This year, on the outside, we are not.

I am so happy to say that. You know why?

We could afford the fancy restaurant, but I hated my job and spent most of my days depressed and anxious.

You were lost  – completely unsure of what you wanted (except of course, for marrying me).

This year you have to work so that we can make ends meet. But this is because you are more sure of your own future than you ever have been before, and I am slowly finding ways to make a living which I can truly enjoy.

This year, I will be sitting at home, or at a yoga class, more full and happy with myself than I have been in years.

So far, our marriage has been nothing like what I had expected it to be. In the year since that fancy restaurant, we had both the happiest day of both of our lives, and two of the saddest, when we lost our two babies.

And we came out of it. We are on the other side. Together. And today I can say that I love you more and more every day.

Every day that you’ve stepped up and taken care of me when I’ve felt broken.

Every day that you were broken yourself.

Every big decision we have had to make in the last year.

Every time we talked things through, figured things out, and worked on our relationship.

Every hurdle we took on together. Every challenge that we had to face.

We got it done. We did it together.

Tonight, on the outside, we will not look like a perfect couple – the wife at a yoga class and the husband working late.

But when you come home from your shift, sweaty, exhausted, and most likely carrying a couple of sandwiches for us to share while watching something silly on TV, I will hug you, kiss you, snuggle up on the the couch, and know that it doesn’t matter what it looks like from the outside.

We are stronger than ever.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my wonderful husband. I hope that we continue to grow together for decades to come.

Love,

Your Shmerson

 

**Ps: Marie and Elphie gave everyone the idea of posting wedding/couple pics today. If you want to see a full list click on over to Elphie’s post here.

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