“I think you’re really going to like your Valentine’s gift this year,” my husband remarked to me in bed a few weeks ago.
“Oh?” I said in a neutral tone, wondering what he had up his sleeve.
Last week was brutal. Kids sick. Kids crying. Kids throwing up. Me missing two days of work because I’m the one with the flexible job, not my husband. Me staying home all day with the children and then going to work from 5-9 pm last Wednesday, because there were cells that had to be harvested and things that had to be done. Experiments that didn’t work. Experiments that technically worked, but not in the way that I wanted them to. And last Friday, I topped off a hellish week by dropping a plate of Super Supreme Nachos in the cafeteria line. Shards of ceramic skittered across the floor, amidst clumps and puddles of chips, guacamole, cheese and beans.
Somewhere during the week of Legume’s night terrors and the vomit and the snot attacks, I stumbled into my bathroom in the darkness, having just put Legume down to sleep for the night.
I noticed that the lid for the toilet seat was down, which was odd. Then I sat, and noticed something even odder. I flipped on the lights and saw cords trailing across the floor.
I strode into our bedroom and said “What is going on!” to my husband, who was busy reading his iPad.
He did not even deign to look up. Didn’t even crack a smile.
“So I guess that’s my Valentine’s present,” I said.
Yup. A heated toilet seat.
“You spend so much time in there—I thought you would like it,” my husband explained.
And I have to admit, after several days with our new friend—it is pretty nice.
So that’s my Valentine’s day. The kids are healthy again, and brought back bags filled with cards and candy from their classmates. My husband’s admin baked pink frosted cupcakes for the office, and gave him a plate to take home for the girls (and they were so stuffed with treats from their own school parties that they could barely nibble at them). Our neighborhood babysitter dropped by with two huge foil-wrapped “Hershey kiss” treats for the girls (actually rice crispy treats molded and wrapped to look like Hershey kisses). Two hours ago, I found out that my sister is expecting her first baby girl, and the Bean and Legume can expect a little girl cousin to play with in five months. Husband is passed out upstairs in Legume’s room after reading her a bed-time story.
Almost ten years married now. We are not, by any stretch, a romantic couple.
But I do have my toasty warm toilet seat now. Husband does still sometimes surprise me. I was thinking of jewelry, but he gave me something I didn’t even know I wanted.
Maybe heated bathroom floors, a double-headed shower, and a Jacuzzi tub are next?