The smell of nappies overwhelms the scent of roses

May I begin with apologising for my late posting. The children are on half term holidays from school, and we took them out for the day to an animal park. Yes jokes were made about leaving them there, their resemblance to the primates, and how they smelled like them. But we had a great time, and they thanked us profusely which was refreshing. But romance, what can I say about romance? I have three children. Which makes romance difficult.  It’s difficult to get close with a toddler in the bed. It’s difficult to watch a movie without someone having a nightmare or needing a drink, wetting the bed or finding a spider. Being a parent can be like being a referee. A calm ambience can be broken in a split second by a wail or an argument breaking out.  Toddlers in my household will drink nail polish remover, so because I cannot fit shelves 6 feet from the floor and they master the art of escape at around 18 months they need watching, constantly.  A 2 minute lapse of concentration has had him wearing make-up, another had him rubbing expensive foundation in his hair which took a lot of scrubbing to remove.  Once he joined the chickens in their chicken house as the back door was left unlocked.  The front door has to be kept locked or he’d be off to nursery himself. This constant state of agitation is not romantic. Stair-gates only go up to a certain height, and like a little chimp he takes them in his stride, they all did.

So, romance tends to be little gestures of kindness which makes each of our lives easier. A lie in at the weekend for each other, we take turns. That’s romance for me. A night’s unbroken sleep when he gets up with the wakened child is the kindest and most loving thing he can do for me, and he does sometimes. I appreciate it.  I need my sleep. He watches them when I go out to the Dead Good Poetry nights, and carries off the kids to wrangle at home.  He’s not particularly well either, he has a lot of pain, he can be quite ill at times but he still helps me when I am about to throw the computer out of the window, and fixes it for me. He pops to the shop when I want something stupid. He tolerates my constant changing of hobbies, and me buying all the associated paraphernalia until I get bored.  He supports me studying, and most important of all, he takes my dreams seriously and believes that I can do it, even if I don’t.  He thinks I can make it, he thinks I’m good at what I do. In a world where people compete and put each other down and ignore each others’ efforts, he is proud of me and wants me to succeed. For me that’s better than romance, it’s pretty priceless.

Plus when the kids are older we can bond over regaling their girlfriends/boyfriends with these tales of their embarrassing escapades. And photos. what's not to like?