I was sitting in a meeting today, and was thinking about what to get my husband for Valentine’s Day. Nothing too big, but a few sweet things like his favorite candy, a few scratch off tickets, and a framed picture of us to put in his new office. I started scrolling through the pictures on my iPhone to find a recent one. Now I’m not super picky about this- I only have a few requirements: the two of us looking at the camera at the same time, no shine on our foreheads, and, well, us looking cute. I found nothing that met this description. I kid you not- literally every picture on my phone are pictures of kids, craft projects, and food. Mike and I are intermingled in this web of cupcakes, painted shells, and kids doing kid things, but like, um…. none of us looking like US.
I found a few from Christmas- Albeit staged, by me, but upon further inspection, I found that Mike had a big sticker of a Hot Wheels car slapped on the front of his shirt, a gift from Jake. Oh yeah, and by “staged,” I mean, it was the week after Christmas, I had my parents and brother over, and I literally BEGGED them to take pictures of Mike and I next to our tree, because well, we didn’t have anything of us together since August!
Another observation? And perhaps the bigger observation? I have been letting my Mom side show like, A LOT. I’m talking that whole, “letting myself go” side. As in, I don’t remember how long my hair is because I’ve been throwing it up in a messy bun or pony tail every weekend because, well, damn, it’s just EASIER. I have a perfectly functioning hair dryer and curling iron, yet I’ve convinced myself that lately, it’s just too much of an effort to use.
Which prompted this text exchange between my husband and I.
And I’m serious about this one- I’m not wearing my hair up all weekend, and there will be a posed, MANDATORY photo session. Oh, and there will be a rush order put into the Walgreen’s photo kiosk to print out a frame-worthy Valentine’s Day present. Mom Hair need not apply.