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Today's guest post is from Chelsea who blogs at MSMummyofTwo. 

For me love can't really be defined by one word, phrase or paragraph even, no that would be too easy!

Lets hope there is enough space here for me to try and get across what love is for me? 

Love is crying through your wedding vows, making you sound like a scratched CD, looking up and realising you are not alone, he is a bigger softy than you, sobbing into his sleeve.

Love is having your back rubbed during labour, whilst you are perched on the toilet having a poo. 

Love is holding your hand and asking all the right questions when you have just been told you have a lifelong condition, yes, even woman are lost for words sometimes. 

Love is never putting any of your washing in the wash bin for your wife because you simply could not bear her having nothing to do.

Love is bringing home the right baked goods after a hard day with the kids.

Love is not gagging at the smell of his farts, even stale under the duvet ones. 

Love is carrying your wife to the toilet after she has had a massive steroid infusion, then her changing her mind.  

Love is rectifying his housework mistakes without saying a word, okay maybe a quiet-under-my-breath mutter. 

Love is creating a diversion when he decides to do DIY, in hopes he puts down the hammer and forgets... phew!  

Love is giving you a lie-in and looking after the children and helping them create an almighty mess for when you wake up, SURPRISE!

Love is coming home from poundland with more stuff you really do not need and smiling through the horror of it all.

Love is not telling you that bra gives you really saggy boobs and letting you go the whole day thinking you look fine, when really you look like you have breastfed 10 children at the same time. 

Love is letting him think those trousers fit, because they are his favourite ant not because he didn't give you the heads up on the saggy boobs thing! 

Love is going out in public with him wearing those trousers. Oh the camel toe, oh the SHAME!

Love is every emotion you could think of, its hard and its messy but I wouldn't have it any other way, after all, without it I would have nobody to laugh at!

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Today's guest post is from Becky at Family Budgeting. Here is her very simple explanation of what Love Is ...

Love is in the knowing you are whole heartedly cheered for as you set about your life and that if you fall you will be cuddled, kissed better, patched up and sent off with cheers all over again.

We need this sort of love from our parents, our partners and our friends

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Today's Love Is ... post is from Cas who blogs over at Mummy Never Sleeps. (this post made me cry a little, so get your tissues ready)

After growing up reading smutty books and watching hideously bad romance films I was really way too young to be exposing my innocent mind to, I wanted a piece of that love cake, like really wanted some. Longing for someone to want me and need me and maybe all the boring stuff in between.

I spent a LOOOONG time feeling completely unlovable, that I was damaged goods beyond repair and that anyone who may cast a curious glance my way would soon realise I was simply too much hassle. Lonely. Desperate. Hopeless. The usual angsty, woe is me shizz.

However, when love did come storming into my life. It scared the pants off me. What was this I was feeling? Why had I been waiting for it, WILLING it to come for so long? It was frigging terrifying, and new and I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

So extreme was my reaction that I spent my whole pregnancy with my darling son, Bean, and up until he was about 3 months old, single. No don't worry, I'm not looking for pity, I realise I was a total idiot. I knew I was being an idiot at the time and that I was hurting us both, plus almost certainly killing any future we may have had together. My (then) ex missed out on hugely special moments of my pregnancy because I was too scared to see him, for the feelings I knew it would stir inside me. He missed our baby kicking for the first time, he missed all those moments when Bean would get hiccups and my stomach would jolt and shudder unpredictably. He missed my entire labour. But he also missed all the boring bits. And I'm ashamed of that to this day, that my selfish need to run meant he missed those moments.

But I couldn't keep pretending I didn't feel the things I did, it was impossible. Once the three of us were together, none of that mattered anyway. Nothing did. Just us.

Love is, to me, an ever-changing thing. It changes colour and shape and smell and meaning constantly. It can be simply terrifying, it can be completely euphoric, it can be mundane and frustrating. It can keep you grounded and give you a reason to just be and to get out of the warmth of your bed each morning. It can make you soar, make you fight and keep you awake at night.

But ultimately, at the end of the day, love is this: