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In defence of totally ordinary love stories



Writer Lisa-Jo Baker shares her heart for real-life romance

Give me an ordinary love.

Give me morning hair and old, comfy pajama pants.

Give me dirty socks next to the bed every night. Even if the bed is in different continents at different times and seasons of life. Even if the bed sags in the middle. Even if the bed is full of long, growing limbs and tiny, precious bad dreams that need to be comforted with blind kisses.

Give me an ordinary love.

Even on its most boring days.

Give me an ordinary love.

Give me a dishwasher unloaded without fail every morning, noon, or night.

Give me basketball practices he never misses and boys he always listens to.

Give me Lego patience and Polly Pocket fascination.

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Give me an ordinary love.

Give me sticky kisses over South African pancakes and dreams we worry over side by side.

Give me spreadsheets that project our future and tiny humans who clamber up and into our laps and laugh us away from our columns and into their bright blue skies of tomorrow.

Give me an ordinary love.

Give me tiny feet on top of big, black dress shoes as he spins and she twirls and he watches her with all that trust that spills out of her blue eyes and that he never drops.

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Give me pizza on Friday nights and hamburgers the way he makes them.

Keep your magazines and movie endings and mad dashes through airports – just give me an ordinary love.

That I can touch and hold and snort out loud with; that I can fight and fume and cry with; that I can trust, and hope, and dream with; that I can warm my feet up against under the covers at midnight.

Give me an ordinary love.

Keep your perfect endings and Pinterest pretty and give me unshaved on Saturday mornings surrounded by the clutter of the week before and a good sense of humor as Elsa yells her morning greeting.

Keep your RomCom expectations and give me the man who wipes snow off my windscreen with a dishtowel because I can’t find the scraper.

Keep your chocolates, flowers, and one-day-a-year on the calendar countdowns and give me every day in and out and in again someone who folds the laundry and sleeps in the bottom bunk bed because his sons believe that dads can punch bears.

(I’ll take your tulips, though).

Give me an ordinary love.

That I can kiss and hold and grow old with. Unselfconsciously.

Give me an ordinary love that believes in commitment.

Give me an ordinary love that isn’t afraid of change. Of wrinkles. Of this shaped-by-children waist.

Give me an ordinary love that sees my reflection in the eyes of my children and loves me just the way I am.

Give me an ordinary love.

Give me an ordinary love that changes batteries and light bulbs, that drives the old car and mixes up the basketball times, that believes in the God of his father and mother and passes down the old stories to his sons and his daughter.

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Give me an ordinary love.

Give me an ordinary love.

Give me an ordinary love.

Because with him, I’m who I want to be.

 

 

Lisa-Jo Baker is the bestselling author of Surprised by Motherhood: Everything I Never Expected About Being a Mom, her writings on motherhood are syndicated from New Zealand to New York and you can follow her at LisaJoBaker.com.

 

 

 

 

 







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