touch.

Last night a dear friend took me out.  We got massages.  It was heavenly.  We made the appts last minute and the spa asked if I cared if I had a man give me my massage.  Not at all. I look at it like a doctors visit and I am just as comfortable with male doctors as I am with females... So I didn't think twice about taking off my clothes. (you don't have to ask me twice to strip down.)  It was perfectly professional until he swiped my bangs from my forehead and tucked them behind my ear.  He did this three times during the massage and each time it made me uncomfortable.  I thought about the irony of the situation.. I had no issues with him rubbing my naked butt, but when he touched my hair and face, it became personal.  Interesting.  I don't think I'll go back to a male massage therapist.  {Although the dude was fantastic.  He seriously worked me over-- at one point I thought he was going to break my neck... it was awesome.  I can barely move today.}

I stayed up late thinking about how much I love it when my husband plays with my hair.  It's something little he does, but my bangs are in my eyes often and he is always there to save me.  He's the only guy I've ever let play with my hair or touch my face and I want it to stay that way.

Aaron is super romantic, but not in the ways I always thought husbands were supposed to be.  He isn't home much, but when he is, he's so attentive to me and the kids.  He knows exactly how I am feeling without me having to say a word.  Sometimes I hate that he can read me like a book because I don't like to be so vulnerable.  But most of the time it feels so good to have someone understand me so well.

I am most vulnerable at night.  I shouldn't stay awake past my bedtime because I turn into an emotionally unstable pumpkin.  Aaron knows this and is so sweet about helping get the kids to bed and making sure I can get some alone time. He also knows there's magic in music and he uses it to his advantage.  Sometimes he will blast rap music and put on a show for me.  More often he will play one of our favorite slow songs and ask me to dance.  I never want to, but I can't say no.  It's amazing what one meaningful song can do for the exhausted soul.

A couple of weeks ago, Aaron didn't get home until after I had already turned into a pumpkin.  He knew when he walked through the door that things were not good.  He took the crying baby from me while I laid down next to Simon on the bunk bed.  After all the kids were finally asleep, I came back into our bedroom with squinty eyes.  Aaron was sitting on the end of our bed all dressed up to go running.  Good for him, but I was going to sleep.  Then I saw that he had my tennis shoes set out for me... and one of his bulky sweatshirts too.  He told me we were going for a walk.  I started crying lacing up my shoes.

We walked out in the moonlight for about an hour.  We stayed on our street, still trying to keep an eye on our babies.  While taking in big gulps of the fresh air, I felt like I was breathing for the first time that day.  I talked to Aaron about what a hard time I was having and how much I just wanted to run away from it all.  He told me about things he was struggling with too and I felt better, knowing I wasn't the only crazy person in the world/house.  We held hands and talked about our favorite vacation spots.  And then we laughed about the kids and all the funny things they said and did that day.  We didn't have to go very far for me to return to the house feeling like a new person.

...Screaming baby + a toddler wearing mascara.  Will continue this post another day.