Do you dread Valentine’s Day or look forward to it?  Do you view it as one of the best days of the year, or is it just another day that has been corrupted by consumerism?  Before I married The Donkey, my best Valentine’s Day memories were all from elementary school; my school’s tradition was a morning at the skating rink, lunch at McDonalds, and the afternoon exchanging/opening Valentine’s cards.  The skating trip was always a highlight of the year; the most anticipated moment came when the DJ announced the “Girls’ Choice” song.  This would be the only 3-5 minutes out of each year that I would hold hands with a boy–even if we did spend the rest of the year calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

Now the Donkey and I have developed our own Valentine’s Day traditions… The first few years consisted of him asking, “So… what am I supposed to do for you tomorrow (Valentine’s Day)?”, and me snapping, “You aren’t supposed to ask about it, you’re just supposed to do it!”   It took me too many years to realize that the poor guy needed a bit more direction than that, but we finally started communicating and planning the day together.  We would negotiate things like where we would go and whether or not we should buy presents.  I was worried that planning ahead would take the fun and surprise out of it all, but it sure beats the “fun” and “surprise” of no restaurant reservations being made, and no gifts being exchanged.

Our newest tradition started a couple years ago, when someone suggested we attend a marriage seminar (can’t imagine why anyone would think we needed marriage education, right?).  It turns out a lot of communities host marriage celebrations and conferences the week of Valentine’s Day.  We have enjoyed banquet dinners, local entertainment acts, and expert lectures–where of course we spend most of the time nudging each other, making sure the important points are being understood and committed to memory.

It might not be “Girls’ Choice” at the skating rink, or a perforated Transformers card signed by my “boyfriend,” but attending marriage celebration night is a tradition I hope we continue.

What are your Valentine’s Day traditions? Share an idea in the comments…

Related Posts

Husband Hopeless at Gift-Giving? Tell Him What You Want
Boring Date Nights? Break Up the Movie Monotony
Big List of Date Ideas: Classic, Creative, Adventurous, Meaningful, and More

Looking for a marriage event in your community or other marriage education resources? See SmartMarriages.com, Marriage Week USA

Things in our house have gotten slightly less hectic, so we figured it was time we get back in touch.  Thanks to everyone for your well-wishes for our tiny little baby.  He is still in the hospital (and will be for weeks), but doing fairly well.

Through this whole ordeal, one of the things I’ve been asked often is how did I ever handle going to the hospital and having a baby on my own–without my husband?! Apparently, the people asking this question are not aware of the fact that I am married to a Donkey.  I have always talked about wanting to go through labor without him there, and just having a nurse invite him in at the last minute.  Yes, we should have been around in the good ol’ days when men stayed in the waiting rooms–I’m pretty sure it’s something we both would have opted for.

Why I Survived Delivering a Baby Without The Donkey Nearby

• I didn’t have to watch Baseball Tonight while being admitted, waiting for surgery, and during recovery.
• There was nobody to tell me, “quick, stop crying–I think someone’s coming into the room!”
• I didn’t have to look at the reaction on the nurse’s faces while they listened to my husband complain about how tired and weak he felt.
• No questions about whether or not they were going to “force him” to hold up any legs, cut umbilical cords, etc.
• I didn’t have to worry about how disgusting everything looked and smelled, and whether or not The Donkey would need to be rolled out on a gurney of his own.
• All the doctors and nurses are extra-nice when you’re on your own.
• I didn’t need to beg him to stop Twittering about the entire ordeal, and pay some attention to me.
• He wasn’t there to ask about how much longer it would take, and could we hurry it along, because he had an important work call or lunch meeting…

But the biggest reason I was able to survive it all?  I knew he was on his way back, and would be there in time to be a huge support during all the aftermath–which he was.  Who would have thought?

I had a great time reading through all the date night suggestions as they rolled in over weekend.  But, if you’re anything like The Donkey, the thought of reading all 275 comments was a bit daunting.  Following is a compilation of all the ideas we collected, plus a few thoughts of my own.  Unfortunately, it was too difficult to reference each commenter, but they can all be found on the original Date Night Giveaway post.

Have a Picnic

• At a park
• In the backyard
  
• At a lake
• State park
• At night, candle-lit
• Take the laptop and watch a movie (you can also do this in the car, at a lookout point, but be careful about steaming up windows)
  

It’s a well known, well-documented fact that The Donkey isn’t overly supportive during pregnancies. This fact will only be confirmed as we continue to write about the remaining months of my pregnancy, not to mention the labor and delivery. So, why in the world would I choose to have a 4th child with this man? The simple fact is, The Donkey happens to be a fantastic father. My attempts to honor him yesterday were pretty pathetic, but a quick summary of our weekend will certainly prove my point:

Friday: The Donkey comes home early to help me get ready for a birthday party for Dimples. He corrals kids, helps serve food, cleans up after dinner. That night he helps put the kids to bed.

Saturday: The Donkey has an early-morning meeting for a church assignment. As soon as he gets home he plays some soccer outside with the boys, then puts sunscreen on everyone and they all pile in the van and head for the zoo–without me. They stay for a few hours during which our boy Monkey makes 3 requests for potty-stops. After the zoo, they come home for a quick lunch (which The Donkey makes). He puts Dimples down for a nap, then takes the two older boys out to see Kung Fu Panda (this time there are no less than 4 potty requests from Monkey). After that, he takes a quick trip to the gym (which I was happy to let him do, since the kids and I have to sneak off and get a Father’s Day gift. TIP: Never, ever take 3 children with you to Guitar Center, even if you are just planning to walk in, grab a Nirvana book, and walk out. Trust me, it will not go well.) When he’s back from the gym, The Donkey gives the kids a snack, then takes all three kids to run a few errands–grocery shopping for the week, a movie rental, and some takeout for us. He gets home, puts all the groceries away, we eat dinner, and he helps put the kids to bed.

Sunday: Despite the fact that my husband gave me an entire child-free day the day before, I still don’t manage to have everything ready for a nice, peaceful morning of breakfast and honoring Daddy. Instead, the kids and I are scrambling around trying to wrap presents and write cards before The Donkey comes home from an early-morning meeting. When his meeting is canceled, and he arrives home a full hour before we expected him, he graciously ignores my stressed-out, emotional outburst. He proceeds to empty and load the dishwasher, and tries to fix the boys’ broken closet door, which he knows has been bothering me. The boys and I finish our quick-wrapping and card design (black pen on plain white paper), and unceremoniously give Daddy his gifts. He enjoys his cards and guitar music books (yes, I finally managed to set up the guitar lessons I promised him). At this point, we’re in danger of being late, so while I jump in the shower, The Donkey gets the boys completely dressed for church. After church, I’m busy with an assignment, so he brings them home and gets lunch ready for everybody.

I think I’ll stop there. That’s just one little slice of our life, not to mention the fact that The Donkey knows how to pack a diaper bag, does not to be given special instructions when I’m away from home (even overnight), and can get the kids to bed in half the time that I can.

Boy Wonder wrote his Father’s Day letter all by himself yesterday, and I think he said it best:

Dear Daddy,

I love you because you hug me a lot and because you take me to seven eleven a lot and because you get me what I want but not always but you did last time you mixed lots of Slurpees together and you play blanket monster I always want you to get me but sometimes you get [Monkey] or [Dimples] the end.

Love, [Boy Wonder]

Nine months of clueless comments, no empathy, being treated like I’m “faking it,” all ending with a labor and delivery where he complains about how uncomfortable he is? I’ll take it, any day.

I wasn’t at my computer much yesterday, which means I missed a lot of the April Foolery which was spread all over the web. The Donkey and I didn’t really do much to celebrate the holiday. I did miss an opportunity when I sent him an email with some details about our budget; I could have easily reported a lower bottom line, which would have sent him into a dizzying shock and rendered him useless at work for the remainder of the day.

I, on the other hand, am not very easily shocked–simply because I am married to a donkey. He doesn’t limit his crazy comments to the first day of April, and now that I am pregnant (thanks everyone for your well-wishes), the craziness has been cranked up a notch. No, our announcement was no joke, and neither was any of this:

The Donkey’s Early Reactions to Pregnancy

• Despite 3-4 weeks of symptoms and a positive test, he continued to instruct me to “just wait until the doctor’s appointment, so you can find out if you really are pregnant.“
• I got home from an early-morning walk yesterday and stood on the scale. So far, regular exercise has helped me to maintain a constant weight, despite my expanding waistline. I was feeling pretty good about that fact until The Donkey spoke up: “All that exercise and you haven’t even lost any weight yet?!“
• A few times while searching the kitchen for something to eat, I’ve mentioned that nothing really sounds good, since I am feeling pretty nauseous. The Donkey claims he doesn’t remember any nausea during my first three pregnancies! This is when I start wishing that I were one of those women who puked when pregnant, simply so I could have some proof.
• The Donkey assures me that even puking wouldn’t prove much. He goes on to recite the history of Queen Victoria, who once upon a time was very ill, and vomited frequently during a pregnancy. Consequently, all the peasants started thinking this was a normal symptom of pregnancy, so they all started feeling nauseous and vomiting when they were pregnant. Only later was it revealed that the Queen was just coincidentally suffering from a different disease during her pregnancy, which was the true cause of her nausea and vomiting. But ever since that time, The Donkey theorized women puke when pregnant, simply because they imagine that they’re supposed to. Please don’t bother checking Wikipedia; of course he made the whole thing up; but he assured me that he’s “half-kidding” about it all.

Again, a big thank you to all of you for your well-wishes during this time; as you can see, I certainly need them.

Disclaimer: The Donkey happens to be the best Dad ever, which is the only reason I can survive the 9-months of pure insanity.

I was on my own last week, since The Donkey was on a business trip (vacation) all week. As always, I requested that he send postcards to the kids, and this time he managed to remember to do it! Since he’s slightly stingy, I was surprised that he splurged and sent individual postcards to each of the boys. I was even more surprised that he wrote one to me!

Then I read it…

Yeah, no surprises there.

Recently I heard someone complaining about spending leisure time with his wife. She had planned two outings–both to places that he was not interested in–and he felt that they just weren’t worth the trouble. He went on the first outing grudgingly, but then flatly refused the second–it just didn’t seem like it would be fun. The man went on to complain that things with his wife weren’t going well; she was distant and often sad.

Hearing this story reminded me about a time when I had my own complaints about going out with The Donkey…

Wife: We never do anything fun.

Donkey: What do you mean? We’ve been going out on a lot more dates recently, haven’t we?

Wife: Yeah, but we always just do the same thing. All you ever want to do is go see a movie. We can’t even talk at a movie. That’s not very good for helping us connect and communicate, and shouldn’t that be the whole point? Sure, a movie is ok sometimes, but that’s all you ever want to do–why can’t we take a day trip or go mini-golfing, or do anything but just sit in a movie theater?

Donkey: When was the last time you planned one of those activities and I turned you down?

He had a point there. I was blaming him for our lack of fun, meaningful date activities, but in reality I had done nothing to ensure that we were going on those kind of dates. We discussed the issue a bit more, and decided to start taking turns being in charge of date night. I was excited to start planning the kinds of things I was interested in. At first, that’s how it worked. I would set up a date for something like mini-golfing, and he would set up a date to the movies. Our plan was working well, but it got even better. Somewhere along the line, we started making plans for each other, instead of for ourselves: I planned a date to a movie that I didn’t really care for, but that he was really excited to see. He planned an afternoon where he picked up my favorite takeout food and we ate at a little park that had hiking trails and a waterfall.

Ahh, those were the days… Now, we’re kind of back into the same old routine… showing up at the movie theater and hoping there’s something good playing. At least now I know that I have only myself to blame. I’m ready to start insisting that I get a turn to plan the date night, so I can make sure we do something fun.

Any suggestions?

The Donkey and I have spent the last 5 weeks or so suffering through some pretty nasty colds. Which is to say, I’ve been suffering through my own cold AND The Donkey’s Man Cold. For a depiction of a Man Cold, watch this quick video clip from the British comedy, Man Stroke Woman:





You can also view the video here

Of course that’s just a small snippet of what life is like with a Man Cold in the house. I won’t even mention the endless requests for back rubs, hot bubble baths, and late-night trips to the store for “medical supplies” (ice pops). I also won’t mention the fact that at the height of my case of Walking Pneumonia (not nearly as serious as The Man Cold of course), The Donkey spent a Friday night out to dinner and a movie with his brother, because he assumed that “I would just want some time alone.”

Anyone know how I can catch a case of the Man Cold, or were all females just immunized at birth?

Thanks to everyone for participating in our First Annual Valentine’s Day Giveaway! We’ve had such a fun time reading your wishlists, poetry, advice, movie recommendations, and  Valentine’s Day posts.  We hope you all had a great Valentine’s Day.

When we were newlyweds, and our first February rolled around, I remember The Donkey asking me something to the effect of, “So, am I supposed to do something for you for Valentine’s Day or something?” I said that it would probably be a good idea, and he went on to ask me what he should do.

“You’re not supposed to ask me what to do–you’re just supposed to do something.”

“But I don’t know what you want.”

“Well, you’re supposed to figure something out. We shouldn’t even be having this conversation; we’re not supposed to talk about it at all, it’s just supposed to happen, and it’s all supposed to be a surprise.”

We continued to have some version of this conversation every Valentine’s Day (plus birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmas) for the next few years. He would bring up the holiday, asking “so, what am I supposed to do for you?” and I would give him a lecture about surprises. After all, I always saw my parents planning little surprises for each other–that’s just how it was supposed to work.

Well, it took a few years of disappointing holidays for me to realize that there was something wrong–not with him, but with my approach to it all. Sure, some husbands have a knack for romance and surprises. Well, my husband doesn’t happen to be very gifted in that area; then why in the world would I not want him to come to me and ask me what I want?! It was such an epiphany–I could actually spend a holiday exactly the way I imagined, get the gift I was hoping for, and even get a little love letter–and all I had to do was answer the simple question, “What do you want?”

It’s not uncommon for me to hear The Donkey ask a question like…

“Hey, am I allowed to go out anywhere tonight?” or… “How many nights are you going to let me hang out with my brother when he’s in town?” or… “I was just wondering if there’s any chance of me getting permission to go to the movies this weekend?”

And it’s not uncommon for him to hear a response like:

“What do you mean will I allow you?! I’m not your mother, you know. What are you going to do next–pull out a permission slip for me to sign?”

After that we usually get into an interesting discussion. He says he knows I’m not his mother, but that he also knows that he does indeed need my permission before he goes anywhere. I ask why he insists on treating me like some kind of task master.

He says, “Well I guess this means I can’t go out.”

I say, “What do you mean… I never said you couldn’t go anywhere?!”

He says, “No, I know. But I can just tell that it’s a bad idea. I’m sure I’ll get in trouble if I do; so don’t worry about it–I’ll just stay home.”

At this point I am backed into a corner. If I say he is not allowed to go out, I confirm that I am, in fact a task master who controls his every move. But now I definitely don’t want to say yes either, because I feel like I’m being bullied into it.

And forget about whether I actually want him to go out or stay home. Maybe it happens to be a good night for him to go out because there’s a Jane Austen movie on the Tivo that I want to watch in peace. Then again, it could be a terrible night for him to go out because I’ve been sick for two weeks and watching children all day long, and I can’t bear the thought of doing the kids’ bedtime routine one more night on my own. But the fact is, by the time we’ve played out the “Mother, May I?” conversation, I am not even thinking about whether or not it’s a good night for him to go out or what I actually want. I’m just focused on not being perceived as the bad guy.

And so we end up in a situation where nobody can win. He may get to go out, but he won’t enjoy it because he’ll be worried all night that he’ll come home and find out he’s been grounded. I may convince him to stay in, but he’ll just feel upset that he has no control over his life, and I’ll feel upset that staying home with me wasn’t what even his top choice that night.

Is there any solution to this cycle? I’m clearly no expert, but here are a couple things I think would help:

I could: Examine my attitude. Do I truly hate being asked for permission all the time, or am I actually saying, “I’m not your mom… except when I want to be.” Because I’m pretty sure there are plenty of times when I do expect to be asked about things, or when I do get after him for making plans without clearing them with me. I could find a better balance–where I’m expecting to be considered and consulted, but I’m not attempting to dictate what he does.

He could: Soften his approach. To me, there’s a huge difference between, “Am I going to be allowed to go out at all this weekend?” OR “Hey, I was thinking about going out with my brother Saturday night, but I’m just wondering if that would work for you or not–did you have anything else in mind?”

Is it just me? Do any of you find yourself in similar situations? What do you do?