Leading Mama

Sunday Soapbox: He Must Really Love You

In between sessions at the Philadelphia Writer’s Conference Friday night, I snuck into the bar in the hotel lobby for a glass of wine. I took a seat at the end of the bar, ordered a cabernet, and opened a magazine. I read for a few minutes before other conferees started trickling in.

 

Writers, it seems, like to drink (a little). And talk ( a lot).

 

The seats at the bar filled up with writers and editors. I fit right in. Sort of.

 

I recognized the name of the man who sat down next to me; he was on the list of conference speakers. As we talked, I mentioned that I’d been in New Jersey less than a year, and that we’d moved here due to Leading Man’s Air Force career.

 

He said he was staying in the hotel, even though he lived close. I explained I was driving home, because it wasn’t that far. Our perspectives, it seemed, were quite different.

 

“I have two kids and two puppies at home,” I added. “My husband is watching them while I’m here.”

 

“He must *really* love you,” he responded.

 

“Yes,” I stammered, surprised by his stealthy, unintentionally sexist comment.

 

“I earned some super-wifey bonus points by going it alone during four long deployments,” I added, feeling some strange need to justify my husband’s behavior.

 

The bottom line is that I take care of two small children and two puppies all day, every day. I also work from home, in between wiping noses, folding laundry, and fixing toys, dinner, and sibling squabbles. Writing is my work, and I approach it with dedication and tenacity. I squeeze it in. I gut it out. And Leading Man supports me. He closes the door to my office to give me distraction-free writing time on weekends. I know; I’m fortunate.

 

Where’s the rant, you ask? This is Sunday Soapbox, after all. And it’s starting to feel a little lovey-dovey.

 

Here’s my problem:  

 

No one will ever tell Leading Man that his wife must *really* love him because she’s willing to take care of two kids and two puppies while he works. They assume it’s my job, even when they meet me in the context of my work. If taking care of kids and puppies reveals anything, it’s that I *really* love my kids and my puppies.

 

In my book, Leading Man doesn’t get super-hubby bonus points for caring for our kids and our puppies. The wet-nosed, laundry making brood is as much his responsibility as it is mine. He is not “babysitting” when I am away. He is parenting.  

 

It's true, Leading Man supports my career because he loves me. And I appreciate the ways he facilitates and supports my writing. But he takes care of our children and our puppies because he loves them. He loves spending time with them, even if it is exhausting.

 

And so this morning, I’m on my soapbox to say dads don’t babysit their kids, they parent them. Please, don't assume the kids are my responsibility. We share that. And we share the credit, too.

 

FIVE CYGNETS AND A SWAN
© Tatyana Chernyak | Dreamstime.com

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What's got you up on your soapbox this week? Link up an opinionated piece and comment away. Links are live all week.

10 Things about My Grandpa

Grandparents get a short shrift in our society. Maybe it's because they move slowly.  Maybe it's because we're too future-focused. Maybe it's because they aren't on Twitter (unless your grandma is Betty White).

 

I am fortunate that my maternal grandparents are still in my life. I live far away and I don't call or write as often as I'd like, but my grandparents are near and dear to my heart. And so, in response to Mama Kat's prompt, "10 Things about One of My Favorite People," I give you 10 Things about My Grandpa.

 

1. Grandpa McKinney is one of 13 children. His parents and siblings called him "Little Boy." He grew up in Smith County, Tennessee.

 

2. My Grandpa McKinney never had a hobby besides work. Even now, his favorite way to spend a day is puttering around the ranch, caring for the cattle. When he doesn't get to go, his eyes don't sparkle like they should.

3. My Grandpa McKinney goes to town in his beat-up bib overalls to shop for cars. He looks every bit a country bumpkin. The car salesmen don't see him coming. When he's negotiated a good price, he pays cash and drives home.

 

4. Grandpa McKinney has a killer sweet tooth. I've never seen him pass up dessert. When we were kids, we made him homemade, hand-dipped chocolates for Christmas each year. Making "Grandpa's candy" is one of my favorite traditions. I'm sharing it with my own kids.

 

5. Grandpa McKinney shells walnuts to keep busy. This year, he had thirteen 5-gallon buckets of walnuts to crack. My son spent an entire afternoon cracking walnuts with Great Grandpa McKinney. He smashed his finger with the hammer, just like Grandpa warned, but he kept cracking. I bake up lots of love with Grandpa's walnuts.

 

6.  In April, Grandpa McKinney turned 97 years old. This Tuesday, he passed the State of California's behind-the-wheel driver's test. Again.

 

7.  Grandpa McKinney can speak volumes without saying a word. And he can talk a blue streak, too. I could listen to him all afternoon.

 

8. My Grandpa and Grandma eloped to Carson City, Nevada. They raised three children. They have been married for 77 years. Their lifelong partnership inspired Little Man's first name.

 

9.  He never went to college, but my Grandpa can engineer a bridge or a building with skill. When he advised the county work crew that the culvert they were building wouldn't hold water, they ignored him. Probably thought he was some foolish old man. Later that year, it washed out.

 

10.  The best gift I've ever given Grandpa is time with my children. He smiles from ear to ear as he watches my kids play on the living room floor, chasing battery-operated trains under the coffee table. He shows them old-time tractors in his big picture book, and lets them down when their attention wanders.  He grins when they eat with their chubby hands and stuff their mouths way too full. Grandpa McKinney finds joy in the little things.

 

I'm fortunate to have many good role models in life, and Grandpa McKinney is one of them. He taught me it's okay to love my work. He taught me to be loyal and to remember where I came from.

 

He taught me book learning isn't everything. He taught me to be independent and keep myself busy.

 

He taught me that people listen better when I say less.

 

And, he taught me to eat dessert. Take a nap after lunch, and watch my kids play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letter to my Love

My dear,

 

I fear I cannot love thee as I did.

 

In days past, I spent late nights in dark places. With strangers. And loud, pounding music.

 

We shared stories. We made memories. Our time was rich with experience.

 

I chased the unknown.

 

Unpredictable moments whispered sweet nothings in my ear. I delighted in delicious opportunities.

 

Spontaneity was the bad boy down the street, begging me to sneak out my window and meet him in the park. He offered excitement. I accepted it greedily, always wanting more.

 

Not so now.

 

I found another, truer love.

 

Routine is my boy next door. I’ve known him forever. He makes me feel safe.

 

I am comforted by his embrace.

 

I am energized by his steadfast presence.

 

He makes me feel alive. Creative. Ready for anything.

 

I love who I am when I’m with him.

 

My just-washed hair and casual clothes aren’t night-club material. They’re perfect for play.

 

It’s just me and my family and our routine. We move together in a familiar dance. My body knows every move by heart.

 

6 a.m. coffee

 

7 a.m. breakfast

 

8 a.m. blog post

 

9 a.m. preschool drop off

 

Time to write. The baby naps. I read. And write some more.

 

2 p.m. preschool pick up

 

Playing outside. Sorting the mail. Dinner on the stove. Baths and pajamas. Tooth-brushing, book reading, the final episode of Last Cake Standing. And then it is bedtime.

 

The baby rustles in her crib as the four-year-old burrows in next to me for the night. His dad is away on business. I promised he’d sleep in my mom bed. My head rests peacefully on the Pillow Pet he shared so generously. Her name, he says, is Fluffy.

 

I am in love with mundane, everyday details now. Spontaneity messes with my mojo. The confines of my usual routine are not confining. They’re thrilling.

 

And so for now, I bid you leave, my love. Find a young, fickle friend to entice.

 

I’ve got all the excitement I need right here.

 

At home.

 

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This post inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat's World Famous Writer's Workshop, by two long weeks of vacation and too much rum punch.

LOVE LETTER CLOSE-UP
© Gianna Stadelmyer | Dreamstime.com

Sunday Standpoint: Language Lessons for Parents

If you’re a mom with a tendency to over-think everything – like me – it seems like you need a balanced scorecard to determine if you are “doing the best you can for your children.”

 

Are they eating healthfully?

 

    Translation: How many fruit snacks has he eaten today?

 

Sleeping enough?

 

    Translation: Please, please, please nap now so Mommy can write.

 

Meeting milestones?

 

Translation: Is he supposed to make up words like who-body and yestertime or should I be calling a therapist?

 

Developing character traits like honesty, kindness, and persistence?

 

Translation: How many lies does it take to cover up the first lie? And why is he hiding fruit snacks in his toy drawers anyway?!

 

Learning to write their letters?

 

Translation: Is it okay if he writes from the bottom up? Does it mean anything?

 

And – last but not least – has everyone pooped today? (no translation necessary)

 

 

It’s easy to feel like you can never do enough for your kids, like you can never be enough for them.  It’s my standpoint that you can and you are.

 

If you want to assess your parental bottom line, I heartily recommend Gary Chapman’s 5 Love Languages as a rubric. I came across this model when I was writing an article for the February issue of Military Spouse magazine on rekindling romance after deployment.  You can read that article here if you’re interested.

 

The framework applies to all kinds of love relationships and – in Leading Mama’s opinion – can be really helpful to parents.

 

The love languages are:

 

1.       Physical touch

 

Infants get lots of physical touch by design: it’s hard to feed a baby without holding, cuddling, and burping him. Older kids may cuddle up, too. My 4 year old loves to “nuggle” and – if he misses out on time with Mom – I can be sure he’ll turn up in my bed at 3 a.m. and burrow in for the duration. I try to remember that he needs that physical connection, even if I struggle with a skull to the scapula because of it. Someday when he’s too embarrassed for parental PDA I will miss his clinging monkey ways. Snuggle hugs will give way to pats on the back and fist bumps. (sigh)

 

 

2.       Words of affirmation

 

Words of affirmation are free, but they don’t come as easily as I wish. Noticing what my kids do right isn’t as automatic as noticing what they do wrong. For example, it is hard to ignore it when a kid colors the sofa with a black marker and easy to miss the progress he’s making with his cartwheels at gymnastics class. I try to notice the positive and to give atta-boys for effort. I want my kids to know I am proud of them.

 

3.       Quality Time

 

For me, the best way to get quality time with my kids is to include them in tasks I am doing, even if it means the task will go slowly and the results won’t be picture perfect. Little Man and I do a lot of cooking together. Little Mama unfolds the laundry while I fold it. She and I make it a game. We also love walks, bike rides, and gardening together. Turning off electronics helps, too. Don’t think I won’t flip the breaker if I have to.

 

4.        Receiving Gifts

 

Parents sometimes worry we’ll spoil kids if we give them too much (and you know where I stand on buying big ticket items “Because I Can.”). Chapman’s rubric reminds me that receiving gifts *is* important, and I try to give small gifts frequently. Little Man lights up when I give him a flower from the yard or a picture I printed out from the internet. His taste isn’t expensive. That bears remembering.

 

5.        Acts of Service

 

I sometimes resent all the work parenting requires, especially when Leading Man is so busy at work that he’s no help at home. Cooking breakfast, washing laundry, cleaning the floor, and shopping for groceries are not just housework, they are acts of love. When I need a reminder, I make heart-shaped pancakes. “We cannot all do great things, but we can all do little things with great love.” (Mother Teresa) Attitude is key.

 

I hope you’ll find Chapman’s theory useful for evaluating what matters most and for building a parenting “to do” list. Bottom line: show love in a variety of ways and to stay tuned in to your kids’ love languages. If you listen, they’ll tell you how they want to be loved.

 

What languages do your kids speak? Link up and share.

 

 

Image credit: © Mariaam | Dreamstime.com

A Song with Significance: Virulence Vanquished

I woke up in a virulent mood on Saturday. Bitter feelings, hostile thoughts, surly demeanor. The whole toxic trifecta.

 

I don’t really know why.

 

I slept pretty well, considering. Little Man joined us in bed sometime after midnight. He kicks, burrows, punches, and snores. But in a good way.  Little Mama cried “milk” every two hours. She thinks I am her personal Dairy Queen. And she’s right.

 

I woke up, went downstairs and made coffee. I caught a glimpse of the dishes piled in the sink and wondered “Am I the only one who EVER cleans anything up around here?”

 

Little Man demanded bread pudding for breakfast. Normally, I’d say yes to this, because bread pudding is basically bread, eggs, and milk, so it’s breakfast-y enough for me.

 

“No eggs,” I said. “How about cereal or a bagel?”

 

Whining, crying, and stomping ensued. Little Man loses it when he doesn’t get the breakfast he wants. I know that, but I’m out of eggs. “Deal with it,” I thought.

 

Leading Man came in to the kitchen, made his own coffee, and sensed my foul mood like a baby bunny catches the scent of the dingo, just before he’s snapped up and torn limb from limb.  

 

He bumbled around making attempts to soothe me. He cleaned up some dishes. He made small talk. He asked about plans for the day.

 

On any normal day, game show bells would be ringing around here if he acted like that. Dishes, “Ding!” Conversation, “ding, ding!” Family activity planning, “ding, ding, ding!  Bob, tell Leading Man what he’s won!” These are just the things Leading Mama likes.

 

But on Saturday? There were no bells. Just hostile silence. Me: Loud footsteps. Him: Egg-shell walking.

 

Because there’s no way to soothe an angry dingo who has already latched on to the bunny.

 

I slammed around the house getting breakfast for the kids , taking a shower and packing up the diaper bag. We left the house just as Little Mama started melting down. She likes to nap at 9. It was nearly 10. We put her in the car and drove off.

 

I fumed in the front seat while Leading Man switched the channels on the radio back and forth. He turned it up loud to drown out the crying in the back seat. He searched for a song he likes. The baby kept crying.

 

My nerves were jangled.  I couldn’t snap out of it. I'm not sure I wanted to snap out of it.

 

I was seriously pissed off about nothing. I was wallowing in frustration about how no one ever does anything around here except me, about all the pressure I put on myself, about how underappreciated I feel. I was seriously pissed off about everything.

 

The baby was wailing. Bruno Mars was singing about how he’d catch a grenade for me. Right then, I’d probably throw one at him.

 

And then I heard it, from the backseat. 

“Twinkle, twinkle, little ‘tar,

How I wonder whatchu are,”

 

Little Man started singing to his sister, trying to calm her down, trying to lull her to sleep.

 

“Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the ‘ky,”

 

I thought to myself: “I love his little voice. I love that he sings for his sister. And I love it that he keeps singing until she quiets down. He’s so patient and tender.”

 

“Twinkle, twinkle, little ‘tar,

How I wonder whatchu are.”

 

As Little Man sang, my anger vanished. I let go the bunny. And I wondered what set me off in the first place. 

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This post brought to you by the letter V. Visit Jenny Matlock's blog for a variety of Alphabe-Thursday Voices and Visuals.

 

Song with Significance prompted by:

Image credit: © Dmitry Maslov

MilSpouse Friday Fill-In #32

It has been a tough week for the Air Force family. Losing wingmen in the war zone is a not-good fact of military life. Losing wingmen during operations on what seems like safe soil is unthinkable. My heart goes out to the families of the two Airmen shot and killed outside the Frankfurt airport in Germany.  This should not happen.

Join me on Sunday for this week's Sunday Standpoint. I will read and comment on all posts, and encourage you to comment away, too. The topic is "Every Mother is a Working Mother." Take a stand and link up.

 

And now for the MilSpouse Friday fill-in. Here's a little more about Leading Mama's military-wife life.

 

1.     Do you or your husband ever wish your husband was in a different branch of the military? submitted by The Turner Family

    I never wish Leading Man was in another branch of service. I like the Air Force. Leading Man has spent lots of time working for the Army in the last few years, and working for Marines in joint assignments (both at the Pentagon and in Afghanistan). He has great respect for the leadership style of many Army and Marine commanders. When he's really fed up with something at work, we joke about going blue to green. He's way too old to go blue to green now (24 years of service!), but it makes him smile to think about it!

 

2.     What duty station(s) are on your "No Way, Hell No, Not Going, Have Fun Unaccompanied" list and why? submitted by Every Branch

    I'd never say "no way, hell no, not going" but the deep south is not on my list of happy places. I'll go anywhere they send him, even if my hair is ruined by humidity, I can't stand sweet tea, and theyhave bugs the size of Chihuahuas running around. I would go. I would complain loudly. But I would go.

 

3.    If you could be one age forever, what age would you choose and why? submitted by Three Krakens

    Oooh, such a tough question. I'd say 35. Old

enough to know better and young enough to keep up with the kids.

 

4.     If you were a breakfast cereal, which one would you be? submitted by the C.W.

    Something sweet and nutty with an obnoxious crunch to it.

 

5.     What is your morning beverage of choice and why?  submitted by NH Girl Displaced

    Nonfat latte, double shot, no foam. WHY? Caffeine and calcium, silly. Two of my favorite substances. I like a good espresso buzz, and I'm trying to keep Little Mama from leaching all the calcium outta my bones with her 6-times-a-day breastmilk habit.

 

 

 

 

Sunday Standpoint: Honesty is the Best Policy

 

Little Man lies. Constantly.

 

In fact, this week he told Leading Man that a secret is "when you don't want Mommy to know something."

Nice, huh?

 

He hides candy in the drawers of his playroom. When I find it, he explains dodges "I was saving it for you, Mom."

 

When he waited a bit too long to run to the bathroom and -- as a result -- made a pee puddle on the tile, he didn't clean up. He didn't fess up. He closed the door and acted like nothing happened.

 

I found the "surprise" some time later and called him to the scene. He denied that he had an accident. He told me "a ghost did it."

 

In this family, I'm the cook, maid, cheauffeur, and personal shopper.  

I'm the reader of bedtime stories and brusher of teeth.

 

I'm also the bad cop.

 

I put limits on TV time and sugar consumption.

 

I've yet to utter my own mother's refrain "The whiter the bread, the sooner you're dead." But it won't be long. Little Man gets white bread at school and recently told me he doesn't like brown bread so much. Great.

 

Leading Man would plop the kids in front of a screen with a bag of chips and a bowl of candy if it wasn't for me. He wants them to be happy. Always.

 

He's a "yes" man.

 

I am the voice of "No."

 

"You can't watch another episode of Dinosaur Train."

"You can't eat candy for breakfast."

"You need to clean up the puzzle before building a train track."

 

And I tell the unflinching truth. I say "We're not going to McDonald's for dinner because Mom and Dad want a nice dinner."

 

Leading Man -- a.k.a. coward of the county -- says "McDonald's is closed on Saturdays." When we drive by McDonald's, he says "Look, what's that out your window?" so Little Man won't see the golden arches.  Dodge and weave. Deny and distract.

 

My Sunday Standpoint: Honesty is the best policy. Even if it gets you in trouble. Even if it means the kids will whine and moan and grumble all the way to the nice dinner Mommy wants.

 

What do you think? Is honesty always the best policy? Take a stand and link up below. 

 

 

Balance is Relative

Time management gurus would freak out if they saw how I operate. I don't collect empty pizza boxes or tchochkes, but I'm surrounded by so many to-dos and wanna-learns I could star in a special episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. I'd call it "the overachiever edition." Maybe I should pitch this idea to Oprah.

 

Here's my dirty little secret to getting it all done.

 

I let creative impulses, have-to's, want-to's  and deadlines determine what I do and when I do it.

 

Leading Man calls it "just-in-time excellence."

 

If the ideas are swimming in my head, I capture them on paper. I save files and add details as they come to me. When article is due, I write it. If Little Man is out of socks (again!), I do laundry. If the baby has a hacking cough -- right now she sounds like a 2-pack-a-day smoker -- I take her to the clinic. If I feel like Thai Chicken with Basil for dinner, I get busy in the kitchen. If I don't want to cook, I defrost and reheat.

 

When someone offers snuggle time, I drop everything and I "nuggle." I *do* have priorities, you know.

 

The old schedule that housewives perfected over a hundred years and embroidered on millions of flour-sack dish towels just wouldn't fly around here.  

  

Monday: Wash Day
Tuesday: Ironing Day
Wednesday: Sewing Day
Thursday: Market Day
Friday: Cleaning Day
Saturday: Baking Day
Sunday: Day of Rest

 

Spreading tasks over time would certainly make my life more manageable. But it doesn't fit with my personality. I love the pressure of a deadline. The thrill of keeping too many balls in the air is something I miss if my to-do list grows shorter than my arm. I get itchy to take on new tasks.

 

But -- even if it looks like I am in way over my head most days -- I manage to maintain a sense of balance in the longer term.

 

Right now I am working hard. I am overcommitted. I am struggling to stop myself from taking on more. And I am loving every minute of it.

 

I'm also anticipating a delicious change of pace when we go on a two-week vacation this spring. (Where? Turks and Caicos, thank you very much for asking. Super scuba, gorgeous lush tropical happiness, sandcastle making and shell-collecting. Mmmm. I can almost feel the sun on my face.)

 

For Leading Mama, balance is relative.

I know I can have it all, just not all at the same time.

 

This post inspired by a prompt from

 

 

 

 

 

Military Wife Life: MilSpouse Friday Fill-In #30

Generally, my milspouse life is not front-and-center on this blog. I'm married to Leading Man, not to his career. But being a military spouse is the backdrop for my life, and so, so relevant to what I've learned about life, love, and family.

In the interest of sharing a bit more of my military wife life with you all, I'm doing this week's mispouse Friday fill-in. Without other wordiness, here are my answers!

 
What is your favorite MilSpouse blog? submitted by Our Crazy Life

Love, love, love the photos and layout at Household6Diva. Ann Marie's blog is scrumptious. After working on my own -- admittedly text-heavy -- blog, I like that I can "feel" my way through her blog visually. Gorgeous stuff. 

What are your favorite perks about your spouse being deployed (we all know there are perks)? submitted by Ramblings of a Marine Wife

Hmm. I wrote an article on this for the December 2009 issue of Military Spouse Magazine. (I am a regular contributor.)  There's also a discussion on the milspouse.com forums about the "up side to deployments" right now.

Personally, I would say the silver lining is being able to spend lots of time with my extended family. The Air Force has a policy that lets families move anywhere CONUS while a spouse is deployed if the deployment is 1 year or longer. Because of this policy, I had both my babies in my hometown. I was able to share them with their great-grandparents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins for 19 months. That's something military families miss out on most of the time, and it's something I will always treasure.

(I know my milspouse friends in other branches don't get the same benefit, and I wish you all did. The AF has been planning to repeal this, too. I am not sure of the current status of the policy.)

How long did you date your husband before getting engaged? Married? submitted by Utterly Chaotic

About 2 1/2 years before we got married. There was no engagement, unless you consider planning the courthouse wedding via email during a deployment as an "engagement period." (wink, wink)

 

What do you think your husband would do if he wasn’t in the military? submitted by Adventures of M-Squared

That's a really good -- and relevant -- question. Something busy and demanding. And hopefully something where he can make an impact.

Leading Man is an Air Force Academy grad with 24 years of service, so he has been "in" for 28 years! We're thinking about what he'll do after retirement now. It will be difficult for him to find a job that feels as meaningful as helping the Afghans rebuild their communities. My husband has done 3 deployments to Afghanistan in the last 6 years and his heart is still in Panjshir.

If you could talk to the Secretary of the Air Force what is one suggestion you would like to bring to their attention in order to improve the lives of military families?  submitted by My Life as His (Air Force) Wife

Military families struggle mightily with reintegration after deployment, but few seek help with the transition. I wish the services would normalize this experience for people so they don't feel so alone. Many people (civilian and miliary included) think welcoming a service member home should be happy, easy, fun. Like coming back from a vacation.

The reality is that lots of things change in the course of a year and re-making a family over and over and over takes a toll on everyone. The Air Force is fond of saying "flexibility is the key to airpower." In Leading Mama's opinion, a little stability never hurt, either.

Talk is Cheap but Priceless: Wordy Valentine’s Day Gifts

Valentine’s Day is Monday, and – if you are like me – it’s time to start thinking panic about what to give your sweeties! When I asked Little Man what we give our friends on Valentine’s Day, he said we give them "words." I know he means cards, but his answer got me thinking (I know, I know. What *doesn’t* get me thinking, right?!)

Words are a really cool gift. All that other Valentiney hooplah is supposed to "say" I love you. So this year I am taking a stand: no flowers, candy or edible underwear for Leading Mama.  I'm gonna get wordy instead.

 If you a) can’t afford flowers, b) can’t take the risk that you’d eat a 3-lb. box of chocolates before next Monday in a stress- or hormone-induced minute-to-win-it kind of binge, and c) can’t fathom wearing edibles, even if it is for a good cause, get your word on instead.

Just in time for your Valentine gift-giving frenzy, I offer you four fun ways with words:

1.       Make a wordle. Type a list of all the things you love about your sweetie. (Note: If you want phrases to stay intact, you-have-to-hyphenate-them-like-this) Turn your words into art at www.wordle.com and customize colors and font to your sweetie’s style. It’s easier than poetry and more thoughtful than a store-bought card. Oooh, and it’s free! Here’s one I made for my little man.

2.       Take digital pics of letter-shaped objects and arrange them into a word or phrase for your sweetie. (Pst, you can cheat by using actual letter-shaped toys from the playroom if you're making this for the kiddos!) Not so crafty? Order letter photo art online and print a preview to give your sweetie until the real deal arrives in the mail.

3.       Create custom mad-lib love poems online at links2love.  Here’s one I created for Leading Man. If we weren’t already married, this probably wouldn’t woo him. But I laughed so hard when I read it that my cheeks hurt. A tears-to-your-eyes belly laugh does a marriage good. Even if they turn out to be tears of cheese dip. Dang, I love mad libs.

Leading Man,

Your skin glows like the apple, blossoms sexy as the lily in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your piano voice and leaps like a dog at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great hawk wing.
I am comforted by your socks that I carry into the twilight and hold next to my eyes.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of cheese dip.
As my chest falls from my shirt, it reminds me of your pillow.
In the quiet, I listen for the last laughter of the day.
My heated hand leaps to my pants. I wait in the moonlight for your secret TV so that we may chase as one, hand to hand, in search of the magnificent and mystical chocolate of love.

4.       Make your own fortune cookies with customized messages inside. Write your favorite movie quotes, most romantic things you did this year, affectionate love names like pookie bear or sugar lips, or some naughty sexy phrases on strips of pink paper with ballpoint pen (printer ink can smudge!). Bake up a batch of treats using this easy fortune cookie recipe.  If you want to go all out, dip half of each fortune cookie in melted chocolate and sprinkle with valentiney jimmies. Sweet!

However you say I love you, don't forget to say it out loud. In words. Nothing you can buy or do takes the place of heartfelt words of affection and appreciation. Leaders know that.