You Know When You’re a…

… Boring married couple with a baby when your idea of an amazing Valentine’s day gift is having your partner prepare all of your baby’s daycare stuff and make her dinner so that when you get home from work, you actually can relax a little.  I know that doesn’t sound like much but since Jeremy has been studying for the bar since the end of December, I’ve been pulling single parent duty.  To say I’m exhausted is an understatement.  I give a lot of credit to single parents… I don’t know how you do it.

I tried to have Annmarie walk her Valentine’s day card to Jeremy but she was not having it.  She’s been under the weather so when I handed her the card, she promptly threw it on the ground and started screaming.  

Jeremy’s card was a flirty card and mine was so not:


We didn’t exchange any gifts.  I gave Jeremy some candy bars and he took some things off  of my plate this evening.  But I did come home from work to this:

Welcome home

And that’s what being married for nearly 5 years (in April!) and having a 1 year old will do.  I wouldn’t have it any other way! Actually, I’d prefer to be home WITH Jeremy (after he’s passed the bar) but I’m happy with a low key holiday.



Filed under Charm City Kim Rambles

3 responses to “You Know When You’re a…

  1. Ok, you’re totally my Internet twin. Low-key v-day, check. Single parent for a few months, also due to husband studying, check. 5 year anniversary this spring, check (ours is in may). Adorable but currently sniffly and whiny daughter, check.


  2. I am all about a low-key Valentine’s Day. As long as it includes chocolate, it’s a win for me. You are super mommy! Don’t know how you do it!!

    My family has a tradition with greeting cards that they have to involve monkeys somehow. There is a plethora of monkey cards out there, and I have yet to run out of options 🙂

  3. The important thing is that you took a few moments out of the day to remind each other that you love each other. Expensive dinners can go fuck themselves, love is what matters.

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