I love Valentine’s Day.

After nine years together it’s nice that we are forced to spend one day a year remembering that there was once a romantic side to our relationship.

I love the clichéd roses and chocolates (I’m currently eating mine as I type), I love seeing giant, over-priced teddies in every shop and my personal favourite: catching nervous looking men trying to nonchalantly head into Ann Summers before they’re spotted by someone they know.

However, romance in a long-term relationship is a world away from what’s pushed upon us on February 14th; and as much as I love the clichés there are a lot better things out there that would make this romantic holiday perfect.

After a little bit (ok, quite a lot) of thought I’ve put together what would make my day amazing:

Sleep: a bit of an obvious one for the mother of a new born, but it’s on the top of my list. How good would 12 hours of uninterrupted kip be? Just think about it for a moment. I can’t think about it too long or I may actually nod off. Let’s be honest, at this stage I’d settle for five hours. That would be pretty fantastic too.

To go to the bathroom solo: I remember a time when going to the bathroom was a private affair. You went in, you locked the door and you weren’t living in fear of a tiny person walking in for a bit of a chat. In this new house the door handles are annoyingly low which means nowhere is off limits to the Bear. Yesterday we had a nice ‘chat’ while I was in the shower. As much as I love my children, I’d really like to be able to bathe on my own.

To have egg cups: an extension of the low handles, the cupboard door handles are just as accessible. Bear has taken a shine to my surprisingly extensive collection of egg cups (apparently I’ve been subconsciously collecting these). Since he’s discovered them I’m finding them everywhere. It’s not the worst thing to find but he’s leaving them like a serial killer’s calling card which is beginning to frighten me. Today I found one on my bedside table and I could have sworn that it wasn’t there when I went to sleep…

To stand up and just leave the house: I’d really like to just decide that I need to go somewhere, pick up my keys and walk out of the house without it being a military operation involving at least two bags, a feeding schedule and a window of opportunity.  It took over a hour to get out of the house this morning, and that was with my husband’s help – this doesn’t bode well for the rest of my maternity leave. I predict that we will all be lacking Vitamin D quite soon.

Someone to unpack the rest of the house: we are still drowning in boxes since the move and although I can’t stand the disorganisation, I don’t really seem to be doing anything practical about it, like actually unpacking. The mere thought of tackling the spare room scares the beejasus out of me. Best to just close the door and pretend there’s nothing in that room. Who needs a change of clothes anyway?

And that’s that. My idea of romance has drastically evolved since becoming a parent but I’ll still gladly accept the flowers and the heart-shaped card; but if someone could just volunteer to do the laundry that would be swell.