In the four and a half years I have been a mother, 87% of dinners have, at some point, included a child on my lap, making cutting food an impossibility. This is where my husband comes in with fork, knife, and two working hands. If it weren't for him, I'd probably still be gnawing on a serving of lasagna from 2012.

Children take a lot from us: time, money, and tranquility. (They give us things to, like love and macaroni necklaces and super-viruses from daycare.) Nothing can be done about the time or money, but restoring a sense of calm and relaxation can be accomplished through DIY spa services provided by your partner. They may not have the trained and skillful hands of your favorite masseuse, but let's be honest here: You have neither the time, money, nor energy to go out for a proper massage anyway. Foot or shoulder rubs while watching Jessica Jones is just another little sign that you care for one another.

To parents, offering the other person a nap is like a partner in a new relationship telling the other, "Hey, you know how you've always said your ultimate fantasy was [crazy sex thing that we've never done before]? Let's do that right now." Yeah, offering to let them take a nap while you watch the kids is far more exciting.

It takes a special person to hold a notoriously thin bit of paper to your nose and say, "Here, blow as much globby, germ-filled mucos into this as you can and then I'll throw it away for you," while you're holding a sleeping baby who will definitely wake up if they are put down. That's love, yo.

No one wants to cook after a long day at work, whether you work outside of the home or not. So when one of you shows up at the door with containers of pad thai, saag paneer, or pizza, it's like, "You are a glorious and magnificent food goddess and I love you so much right now." Bonus: No one has to clean the kitchen, either.

It's not quite a nap offer, but it's up there. And "sleeping in" doesn't even necessarily mean "sleep as late as you want." It means "Our kid wakes up at 5 a.m. but we don't have to be up until 7. You sleep until your alarm goes off; I've got them this morning. You can handle it tomorrow."

I'm convinced the drug stores of America celebrate every time a child is born, because more babies means more people coming into their stores on a daily basis. This is just the natural order: when you have a little one, you invariably need something from the drug store. Wipes. Pacifiers. Nasal spray. Gripe water. Diapers. Formula. Something. So one of you will always have to make the trip... and, if you're very nice, you will come back with a little something to sustain your partner. A Kit-Kat, Milanos, chips, Ben & Jerry's. Parenting is hard as hell, and it's far more easily borne when there's a pint of Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream in your corner.

Because that crap is annoying as hell, especially if breast pump parts are also involved. Stepping up and doing this crappy chore (because, let's face it: those things often just kind of sit in the sink for a while because no one feels like doing them) is a true sign of kindness and affection.

Whether you're being gently pushed out the door to get a manicure or go have drinks with your friends or play tennis or you're telling bae to skedaddle to see a movie or buy comics or do yoga, it's an ultimate sign of loving closeness when you tell your co-parent to get lost.

Like washing bottles, this is a chore no one wants to do. Even though it doesn't actually take too long, all the smells that this magical container somehow traps throughout the day/week comes rushing toward you in the few seconds it takes to remove the bag, tie it closed, and then toss in garbage (or into a fiery pit of Hell, where it belongs). A willingness to take on this task demonstrates kindness and bravery.

At their basest level, kids are basically just factories of unpleasantness. My son was famous for projectile vomit at his 3 a.m. feeding (the one thing that makes a 3 a.m. feeding truly awesome? Knowing your child is going to spew the contents of his stomach all over you at the end of it.) and projectile poop literally all the time. My daughter was known far and wide for crapping up the back and front of her onesies. But when you're part of a strong relationship, you and your partner attempt to shield one another (and your possessions) from all this. My husband once jumped in front of my son's projectile poop, secret service style, to protect our white comforter. I once caught my daughter's vomit before it hit my husband's shoulder. This is what love looks like, guys.

Legos. Action figures. A diaper that you forgot to toss. An unexplained wet spot. A parents' home is one of landmines. Your true love will help you navigate these treacherous steps.

Two little words that, when genuinely and regularly applied to a relationship, can work wonders. It's like the coconut oil of words: It fixes everything and makes everything wonderful. Saying thank you to your partner goes beyond just, "I appreciate what you did just there." When you say it enough, especially for the little things, it says, "Thank you for always showing me that we are in this together."