What would YOU do for love?

It's the cheesy kind of question I would never have posed to myself 4 1/2 years ago. Back then, I had nothing to prove. No aspect of my love for my darling husband was ever in question. We courted, argued, broke up, reconciled, and eventually married almost 8 years ago, all against the wishes of friends and family. In marriage, our relationship flourished and we effortlessly proved wrong all our past nay-sayers. It is no exaggeration when I declare my husband to be my best friend and confidante, the only man I desire at my lowest points and all the other points in between. While our marriage is far from perfect and we still quarrel, I know that he is the yin to my yang.

And then my boy/girl twins were born.

Like most (hopefully all) mothers, my love for them grows exponentially every day. I find that all the old cliché's are true. As one new mother declared to me, I never knew I could love someone as much as I love my children. All at once the daunting power of unconditional love has been wielded before me, reflected in the wide-eyed innocence of my son and daughter. I devote my time, attention, and affection to making them happy, keeping them safe, and staying connected to them any way that I can. In short, I adore them.

The problem is, this doesn't leave much time, attention, or affection left over for my beloved spouse. When my children were babies, the allocation of my limited resources of energy was clear. I had helpless infants to care for; my fully grown husband was fully capable of taking care of his own needs. But somewhere along the line, what had originally been a necessity became a habit. My children are now on the threshold of elementary school. They are not the vulnerable infants they once were yet I still cater to their every need at the expense of my patiently enduring husband.

Surely he must wonder what happened to his beloved bride. Where did our loving terms of endearment, tender moments, and sensual glances go? More importantly, are they gone forever?

I had a long day at work today. As I wearily walked through the front door, I was instantly bombarded by clamoring children. I love them, I adore them, and I wish so much that I had more of me to give them than the withered human spirit that I am reduced to at the end of an exhausting day at the office. Sometimes, MANY times actually, I wonder if it is even possible that I am still the same girl my husband fell in love with 11 years ago. And then I looked up and there he was, apron wrapped about him, my favorite Korean beef marinating between us. The slices were so thin that when he finally went to grill them outside, he had to pick up the delicate morsels with his bare hands. With his eyes burning from the smoke, he bravely forged through 3 full pounds of the succulent meat, expertly flipping them on the foil lined surface with a deft flick of his wrist, each piece grilled to a perfect mix of slightly smokey crisp and tender juicy meat. It was perhaps the sexiest thing I have seen in a long long time. Much like Elizabeth Bard's adventures in "Lunch in Paris: A Love Story with Recipes", the sensual connection between food and intimacy apparently weaves a thread through our family as well. The power of this sensuality is comforting, sustaining, and thrilling all at once extending beyond the food on our plates and the satiety of our stomachs.  Without a single word being uttered between us, we are reminded that we are still mysteriously united in the tantalizing bonds of seductive affection and palatable romance.

I adore my children. I adore my husband. What would I do for love? I guess I'm already doing it.

Disclosure: This post was inspired by Elizabeth Bard's book "Lunch in Paris: A Love Story with Recipes". While I received a complimentary copy of the book, the opinions expressed above are my own. This is a "From Left to Write" book club post.