Skip to main content

What is love



Love used to be romance: roses and chocolates, candles and cards, Judith McNaught and Johanna Lindsey novels, dashing heroes, dinner at restaurants with no prices on the menus, lingering glances over single flame flicker...time enough together to feel in love, time enough together to be apart and not regret it because there was all the time we needed.

Love has since morphed in something more like patriotism, joy in tribe. Counting on one another, being together in thick and a whole lot of thin, thinking more as we than me.

We marvel, "Look at this family we have created."

We despair, "Look at this family we have created."

Now love is kissing hair and smelling something funny, then realizing your precious progeny has dumped your expensive new hand lotion over her head.

Love is a lap, yours, that offers safety and shelter to your adventurous new toddler in those not-so-adventurous moments.

It's my breast, that piece of anatomy I finally stopped thinking about, which now, once again, consumes my mind---and that of my baby---practically 24/7. It's the magic number, the answer to the question, the pill that cures all ills.

Love is watching a one year old discover and knowing yes, your heart is walking out and about in the world.

It's understanding garbled words from a little new talker, when nobody else hears anything recognizable.

It's laying in bed listening to a four year old tell a story about a Care Bear birthday party...15 times, one for each Care Bear.

It's making a toaster waffle only to learn that they are DISS-GUSS-TING! And only yogurt oatmeal will do.

Love is being able to take that punch in the gut, "I hate you!" and keeping calm until you figure out what the real problem is...and trying to console yourself that hey, this is a shining mommy moment, she trusts me enough to let it all loose.

Love is our bedtime poem:

How do I love you?
No matter what.
How much do I love you?
To the moon and back.
And on days like today...
When I...
I love you twice as much.
I love you when you're happy.
I love you when you're sad.
I love you when you're good.
I love you when you're bad.
I love you when you're up.
I love you when you're down.
I love you when you smile.
I love you when you frown.
I love you when you're serious.
I love you when you're a nut.
I love you...
No matter what.

Yeah, this post drips sap...eh, but I like sap. It's romantic. It's love.

Have a great Valentine's Day! (I also like Hallmark Holidays.)

See lots o' love at mommybloggers.com

By Julie Pippert
Artful Media Group
Museum Quality Digital Art and Photography
Limited Edition Prints
Artful by Nature Fine Art and Photography Galleries
The Golden Orchid: Original and Unique Wearable Art

© 2006. All images and text exclusive property of Julie Pippert. Not to be used or reproduced.

Comments

KK said…
Julie, I loved this post.

KK
February 15, 2006 at 9:14 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cancer's Calling Card

Foreword: I'm not a medical person, or any kind of expert. This post shouldn't be taken as God's word carved in stone by Moses. In other words, don't consider it to be any kind of authority or use it to treat, diagnose, or select medications. Do your own research and talk to your doctor, an actual expert, who, you know, went to medical school and stuff. This post is merely my best understanding of cancer and cancer treatment and prevention, as related to our situation, based on what I've learned from reading and talking to doctors. Author's Note: If you aren't interested in the cancer discussion and the things I learned, and only want to know the outcome of our appointment with the oncologist yesterday, skip to the end. I've divvied this up by sections, so go to the last section. What would you do if one day a postcard arrived in the mail to warn you that sometime in the next three years you would be diagnosed with cancer? Would you believe it? Change an
25 comments
Read more

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Quorum

After being confronted with written evidence, Julie admits that she is a total attention whore. In some things, in some ways, sometimes I look outward for validation of my worth and existence. I admit it. It's my weak spot, my vanity spot . If you say I am clever, comment on a post, offer me an award, mention me on your blog, reply to a comment I left on your blog, or in any way flatter me as a writer...I am hopelessly, slavishly devoted to you. I will probably even add you to my blogroll just so everyone can see the list of all the cool kids who actually like me . The girl, she knows she is vain in this regard , but after much vanity discussion and navel-gazing , she has decided to love herself anyway, as she is (ironically) and will keep searching for (1) internal validation and (2) her first person . Until I reach a better point of self-actualization, though, may I just say that this week you people have been better than prozac and chocolate (together, with a side of white choc
16 comments
Read more

In defense of vanity...I think

Do you have one of those issues where you argue with yourself? Where you just aren't sure what you actually think because there are so many messages and opinions on the topic around you? I have more than one like this. However, there is one topic that has been struggling to the top of my mind recently: vanity and perceived vanity. Can vanity be a good thing? Vanity has historically been truly reviled. Vanity is number seven of the Seven Deadly Sins. It's the doppleganger of number seven on the Seven Holy Virtues list: humility. There are many moralistic tales of how vanity makes you evil and brings about a spectacular downfall. Consider the lady who bathed in the blood of virgins to maintain her youth. Google Borgia+vanity and find plenty. The Brothers Grimm and Disney got in on the act too. The Disney message seems to be: the truly beautiful don't need to be vain. They are just naturally eye-catchingly gorgeous. And they are all gorgeous. Show me the Reubenesque Princess.
31 comments
Read more