After 11 years of marriage, Valentine’s Day starts to look a little different. You realize you don’t need vodka shots anymore, but you need a tall glass of water every single day.
This Friday morning was no exception—cloudy skies, sickness spreading through the house, cranky kids stuck indoors, and no plans for celebration.
I woke up with a mind spinning in a million directions, the weight of a week’s chaos heavy on my shoulders. I dragged myself out of bed to prepare for a meeting, hoping to clear my head and get through the workday. But as soon as I made it to the bathroom, the familiar sound of a tantrum followed by an even louder shout from my older one broke through my fog.
Glancing in the mirror, I sighed and muttered to myself, “Happy Valentine’s Day. You asked for this in some lifetime, didn’t you?”
The youngest came running into the bathroom, wailing as if the world was crumbling around him. Between his sobs, I caught a few words: “Chu-chu train.” Huh?
I tried to ask him what was wrong, but all I got in response was more tears and a full-blown tantrum. I heard the words “t-shirt” and “chu-chu train” but still couldn’t make sense of it. I just stood there, frozen, trying to figure out what to do next.
Then, in the middle of all the chaos, you appeared—like a beacon of calm in the storm. There I was, a whirlwind of exhaustion, frustration, and tangled emotions, and you just walked in. You looked at me, messy and overwhelmed, and without saying a word, you wrapped me in your arms. Your warmth cut through the tension, and in that simple embrace, I could feel the weight of the world lift just a little.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you whispered softly, your words a lifeline amidst the noise. And, as if on cue, the background soundtrack to my life—a cacophony of wails and shouts—was suddenly accompanied by the high-pitched, nonsensical chorus of “Chu-Chu train.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, but the tears came anyway. Everything seemed to unravel in that moment—the exhaustion, the mess, the endless loop of chaos—and I just melted into you, feeling both fragile and strong all at once.
You gently pulled away and kneeled down to our youngest. With your patient calm, you asked him to repeat himself, even as his sniffling echoed in the room. And through the tears, he hiccupped out the words once more: “Chu-chu train. T-shirt. Yellow.”
And in that moment, it wasn’t just a t-shirt. It was the simple magic of you—holding me together when I was falling apart, even in the midst of a Valentine’s Day that looked nothing like what I expected.
And then it clicked. He wanted his yellow "chu-chu train" t-shirt.
I walked over to the laundry room, of course, because the house looked like a bomb had gone off. I dug through piles of laundry until I found what he needed. As soon as I handed it to him, the tears stopped. Just like that—one battle won because of you by my side.
And then there’s everything else you handle. Picking up medicine, doling it out to everyone, soothing cranky kids, managing my endless requests for attention, handling work, listening to my endless rants, all while stealing those little moments of connection in the middle of the daily grind.
They say a woman wants it all—or the cliché: What does a woman actually want? But in reality, all we want is the person who sees you at your worst, understands the chaos you’re swimming in, and still lifts you up. The one who picks you up when you fall, holds you steady when you’re standing, and crawls alongside you when you’re too tired to keep going.
The one who, without being asked, makes the perfect cup of tea and reminds you that love isn’t about flowers or chocolates—it’s about being there, fully, in the mess and beauty of the everyday grind.
Love is that tall glass of water, tender and pure, sipped daily, never tiring, always the cure.
Though the world may tempt with fleeting, wild vodka, it’s the tall glass of water that heals, quenching thirst when the night’s a blur.
For when you wake, hungover and heavy, it’s the water you crave, steady and ready,
A love that nurtures, simple and true, the one thing that always brings you through.
