Yesterday, I had a day off from work. Our parent company being American, I guess we got to honour President’s Day with Heritage Day. It sounds like some made-up holiday, but I’m all for made-up holidays. The Dog did not have to be at work until 4 PM, giving us a few options on what to do. Instead of burning $35 well-spent pre-paid dollars to enjoy our child, we decided to ship him of to daycare and enjoy each other. He was none to happy about it until I got the teacher to talk to him about playing hockey with his dad on the weekend and quietly walked out while he was going on about it.
First we had a leisurely promenade through Loblaws. I got to take my time looking at products and reading labels and, for once, the Dog didn’t rush me. We even flirted in front of the rice. We spent a good hour or more in there and walked out with a hefty, healthy, but higher in fat than usual grocery bill. (Never let a hungry pregnant woman shop to her heart’s delight.)
We cracked open the Snyder’s Pretzels bit things (cheddar flavoured) in the car and giggled the whole way home. We drove past Nate’s daycare hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the playground, but we had the timing wrong. Oh well.
We mowed down on pasta, watched Sopranos at full volume and then crawled into bed mid-day. I can’t remember the last time we had “afternoon delight.” It was positively rejuvenating to a marriage that is strained by parenting and strange work schedules. We napped, watched old wrestling promos on YouTube and joked about how I might have to let Bret Hart try out some wrestling moves on me if I get to meet him in person. (Shhh… there is a teeny chance.) The Dog said he’d want to have Bret put him in the Sharpshooter, aka the lethal sounding Scorpion Deathlock, which I wikipedia-ed to learn that Bret had given this move its awesome name. I was that 12-year-old starry-eyed girl, who familiarized herself with all things WWF, GI Joe, and Transformers just so she could talk to boys. Part of me gets nostalgic when I think about wrestling’s hey day and I am once again the pubescent ‘tween with the crush on the man in tights.
It was the type of day that reminded us of how we once were, before Nate consumed our hearts, when the whole world contained only the two of us. I remember being pregnant and watching Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind at the Royal. I sobbed hysterically through the whole movie and for hours after. I remember feeling that -- much like the couple in the film has their relationship deleted from memory -- a part of us would be erased with the birth of our child. How desperately I wanted to hang on to what made us beautiful.
Our Valentine’s went by without much fanfare this year. The Dog was working and I came home to an empty house, a leftover Dora Valentine and 5 (why 5?) carnations. We always pass it off as a Hallmark holiday, but this year it became clear that we needed the excuse to focus on one another. Then sometimes, an opportunity presents itself to be spontaneous -- rare as pink diamonds for most parents. And on those days, we get to be a beautiful thing once more.
Though we're always wrestling with who holds the belt, you got the Scorpion Deathlock on my heart Silverthorne.