All my life, I fell for the boys who were the romantics… (yes, I know Mom… with the exception of one or two in there – names withheld.)

Even as a young girl and teenager, I always loved the characters on TV and in the movies (they usually got the girl at the end) who were the romantics. The ones crazy in love who would do hand-stands in Times Square just to prove their love… they were the romantics.

When my friends were falling head over heels for the captain of the football team or the captain of the hockey team (*disclaimer, I know they can be romantics, too – just not the ones I knew in high school), I was the one who always had her eye on the class clown or the academic. To make a girl laugh out loud and to write her a love note… those were the things that used to make my heart beat. These were the “beautiful” boys to me.

I married a true romantic. He was not like any other guy I had ever met… he loved me and wanted to make sure he showed me – every single day – just how much he did. And… ahem, he was the captain of the football team at his high school – the jock and the romantic. You’d better believe I sunk my hooks into this man who was not to be let go. (Right, honey?) I’ll never forget the day I knew Matt was the one… we had been dating for about 8 months. He had graduated from college a few months before and was living and working in Pittsburgh, and I had flown in for the weekend to visit him. I had been reading the book Message in a Bottle by Nicholas Sparks… I just LOVED it. When I was heading to bed the first night I was there, as I lay my head on the pillow, I felt something hard – like glass hard. Looking under my pillow there was a bottle, with a note inside. It was a message in a bottle for me… Matt told me to keep the note in there… and someday, a long time from now… read it. You know.. it’s been 11 years – 4 kids – and I still haven’t read it. I will someday. Just not yet…

This is my version of romantic. Now… being married and having 4 sons… the romance is a little tough to keep up all the time. We’re excited if Henry poops before bed now! This is our version of reality… right now.

But we have 4 little men. And I want them to be romantics. I want them to fall head over heels in love. I want them to be crazy for love. And fight for it. And feel it with every being of themselves.

And so… I have my William. My oldest son. A smaller version of his father. And he’s “got it”… he’s got that romantic piece that will someday capture a lady’s heart. As I was zipping his coat yesterday I said to him, “I love you so much!” He said, “As much as you love Daddy?” So I told him, “It’s a different kind of love… you’re my son… and there will be nobody else in this world that loves you like I love you.” He got all quiet and looked down.
“Someday I’ll get married too, right?” he asked. I smiled and nodded… then he said, “Well, don’t tell anyone (ahem… ) but there’s a girl in my class that told me she loved me and kissed me on the cheek yesterday before swimming.” He blushed. I couldn’t help but smile… so I asked him, “What did you say to her?” William looked right in my eyes, “Well, I like her too, Mommy. And I’d like to make her a beautiful picture.” Which he did.

And so… my first romantic is born.