Shop the fall collection ➔

Today I want to talk about a topic that keeps coming up. It’s all about why it’s us women who are killing modern romance. Incase you don’t know me, I’m all for empowering women and becoming comfortable with our Lady Boss selves, but it still amazes me that the notion of ‘romance’ seems to throw us all into a spin. 

So let’s get real. 

For a lot of us (me included) we have fallen in love with the idea of romance. For each of us it looks a little different, it might include flowers delivered to work, coming home to a candlelit dinner and a foot massage or being swept off for an expensive dinner at a fancy restaurant. And where does this idea of romance come from? 

Watch any ‘romantic’ movie (like The Notebook – kissing in the rain, seriously who does that? You’ll get a cold…) or episode of The Bachelor and you’ll soon be running a comparison of what these men are doing vs what the significant man in your life is doing. And I bet I know who comes off best. 

What we tend to forget is that these ‘dates’ and lives are scripted. Do you think The Bachelor himself came up with the idea to go on a helicopter ride to a private island for a perfectly packed picnic lunch and champagne? Uh… no. 

So why are we comparing these dates to the ones we have?

By constantly comparing these elaborate, scripted and definitely not romantic (how could they be with a camera crew right there?) dates we are putting our blinkers on to the true romance that is already present in our lives. The Modern Romance. 

Okay, okay, some guys can barely muster up a grunt when you ask them to go out for dinner with you but maybe they are the exception and are a lost cause (who knows…). What I’m talking about is the average guy you married, the one who you’ve become so comfortable with you might start overlooking the little things he does to make your day a bit easier or brighter. The real romance. 

Did your hubby get up to feed the baby last night so you could get just a few more hours sleep? That’s Modern Romance. 

Did he change the oil in your car or check the tire pressure before you went away to make sure you were safe? 

That’s Modern Romance. 

Did he go shopping with you even though he hates going shopping but knew you liked having him there?

That’s Modern Romance. 

Did he jump into bed 10 minutes before you to warm up your side of the bed so it wasn’t cold when you got in?

That’s Modern Romance. 

Did he pick up your favorite take away on the way home from work because he knew you were too exhausted to cook?

That’s Modern Romance. 

Did he take the kids to the park so you could finally have enough alone time to have a shower and paint your toenails?

That’s Modern Romance. 

And before you start commenting saying ‘but they should be doing these things anyway’ I have two things for you to contemplate. 

Firstly, when was the last time you acknowledged that he had done any of this? We often talk about how we feel unappreciated for everything we do and that we don’t get thanked for it. But when was the last time we thanked our other halves? This isn’t about being in battle to see who gives in first. It’s about being in it all together and showing gratitude. 

Secondly, if we don’t show appreciation for what is already done, how can we ask for more? Think about how you would feel if you weren’t appreciated for what you did then kept being asked for more – being told it wasn’t good enough. 

Like I said at the start – I am all for female empowerment and this isn’t about feminism or submission. 

It’s about getting real with what modern romance means, letting go of the Hollywood notion and showing gratitude to our significant others. And if you want a bunch of flowers delivered to you at work – order them yourself and on the card be sure to remind yourself of how much of an amazing Lady Boss you are. 

Krystal Kleidon

My name is Krystal and I am a first time mum. I'm a wife, a daughter, a sister and a friend (sometimes neglectful) and a paramedic. I live in a small country town in Queensland Australia and am the first Australian contributor to Her View From Home – something I am very proud and excited about. I love my Australian culture and lifestyle and you’ll have to promise to cut me a little slack when you see me writing things like ‘mum’ instead of ‘mom’. I'm the creator and editor at Project Hot Mess, a site dedicated to empowering women and encouraging them to embrace who they are in their own perfect way. Even if that means running late with a cold cup of coffee in hand and not brushing your hair for 3 days (that's what dry shampoo is for right..?). 

I Thought Our Friendship Would Be Unbreakable

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Two friends selfie

The message notification pinged on my phone. A woman, once one of my best friends, was reaching out to me via Facebook. Her message simply read, “Wanted to catch up and see how life was treating you!”  I had very conflicting feelings. It seemed with that one single message, a flood of memories surfaced. Some held some great moments and laughter. Other memories held disappointment and hurt of a friendship that simply had run its course. Out of morbid curiosity, I clicked on her profile page to see how the years had been treating her. She was divorced and still...

Keep Reading

The First 10 Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking

In: Journal, Marriage, Relationships
The First Ten Years: How Two Broken People Kept Their Marriage from Breaking www.herviewfromhome.com

We met online in October of 2005, by way of a spam email ad I was THIS CLOSE to marking as trash. Meet Single Christians! My cheese alert siren sounded loudly, but for some reason, I unchecked the delete box and clicked through to the site. We met face-to-face that Thanksgiving. As I awaited your arrival in my mother’s kitchen, my dad whispered to my little brother, “Hide your valuables. Stacy has some guy she met online coming for Thanksgiving dinner.” We embraced for the first time in my parents’ driveway. I was wearing my black cashmere sweater with the...

Keep Reading

To The Mother Who Is Overwhelmed

In: Inspiration, Motherhood
Tired woman with coffee sitting at table

I have this one head. It is a normal sized head. It didn’t get bigger because I had children. Just like I didn’t grow an extra arm with the birth of each child. I mean, while that would be nice, it’s just not the case. We keep our one self. And the children we add on each add on to our weight in this life. And the head didn’t grow more heads because we become a wife to someone. Or a boss to someone. We carry the weight of motherhood. The decisions we must make each day—fight the shorts battle...

Keep Reading

You’re a Little Less Baby Today Than Yesterday

In: Journal, Motherhood
Toddler sleeping in mother's arms

Tiny sparkles are nestled in the wispy hair falling across her brow, shaken free of the princess costume she pulled over her head this morning. She’s swathed in pink: a satiny pink dress-up bodice, a fluffy, pink, slightly-less-glittery-than-it-was-two-hours-ago tulle skirt, a worn, soft pink baby blanket. She’s slowed long enough to crawl into my lap, blinking heavy eyelids. She’s a little less baby today than she was only yesterday.  Soon, she’ll be too big, too busy for my arms.  But today, I’m rocking a princess. The early years will be filled with exploration and adventure. She’ll climb atop counters and...

Keep Reading

Dear Husband, I Loved You First

In: Marriage, Motherhood, Relationships
Man and woman kissing in love

Dear husband, I loved you first. But often, you get the last of me. I remember you picking me up for our first date. I spent a whole hour getting ready for you. Making sure every hair was in place and my make-up was perfect. When you see me now at the end of the day, the make-up that is left on my face is smeared. My hair is more than likely in a ponytail or some rat’s nest on the top of my head. And my outfit, 100% has someone’s bodily fluids smeared somewhere. But there were days when...

Keep Reading

Stop Being a Butthole Wife

In: Grief, Journal, Marriage, Relationships
Man and woman sit on the end of a dock with arms around each other

Stop being a butthole wife. No, I’m serious. End it.  Let’s start with the laundry angst. I get it, the guy can’t find the hamper. It’s maddening. It’s insanity. Why, why, must he leave piles of clothes scattered, the same way that the toddler does, right? I mean, grow up and help out around here, man. There is no laundry fairy. What if that pile of laundry is a gift in disguise from a God you can’t (yet) see? Don’t roll your eyes, hear me out on this one. I was a butthole wife. Until my husband died. The day...

Keep Reading

I Can’t Be Everyone’s Chick-fil-A Sauce

In: Friendship, Journal, Living, Relationships
woman smiling in the sun

A couple of friends and I went and grabbed lunch at Chick-fil-A a couple of weeks ago. It was delightful. We spent roughly $20 apiece, and our kids ran in and out of the play area barefoot and stinky and begged us for ice cream, to which we responded, “Not until you finish your nuggets,” to which they responded with a whine, and then ran off again like a bolt of crazy energy. One friend had to climb into the play tubes a few times to save her 22-month-old, but it was still worth every penny. Every. Single. One. Even...

Keep Reading

Love Notes From My Mother in Heaven

In: Faith, Grief, Journal, Living
Woman smelling bunch of flowers

Twelve years have passed since my mother exclaimed, “I’ve died and gone to Heaven!” as she leaned back in her big donut-shaped tube and splashed her toes, enjoying the serenity of the river.  Twelve years since I stood on the shore of that same river, 45 minutes later, watching to see if the hopeful EMT would be able to revive my mother as she floated toward his outstretched hands. Twelve years ago, I stood alone in my bedroom, weak and trembling, as I opened my mother’s Bible and all the little keepsakes she’d stowed inside tumbled to the floor.  It...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Friendships End, No Matter How Hard You Try

In: Friendship, Journal, Relationships
Sad woman alone without a friend

I tried. We say these words for two reasons. One: for our own justification that we made an effort to complete a task; and two: to admit that we fell short of that task. I wrote those words in an e-mail tonight to a friend I had for nearly 25 years after not speaking to her for eight months. It was the third e-mail I’ve sent over the past few weeks to try to reconcile with a woman who was more of a sister to me at some points than my own biological sister was. It’s sad when we drift...

Keep Reading

Goodbye to the House That Built Me

In: Grown Children, Journal, Living, Relationships
Ranch style home as seen from the curb

In the winter of 1985, while I was halfway done growing in my mom’s belly, my parents moved into a little brown 3 bedroom/1.5 bath that was halfway between the school and the prison in which my dad worked as a corrections officer. I would be the first baby they brought home to their new house, joining my older sister. I’d take my first steps across the brown shag carpet that the previous owner had installed. The back bedroom was mine, and mom plastered Smurf-themed wallpaper on the accent wall to try to get me to sleep in there every...

Keep Reading