When I was younger, regardless of my relationship status, I had nothing but contempt for Valentine’s Day. “A stupid, made-up holiday created by the card companies – I don’t need a special day to say I love you” is one such witty, original thought you might have heard uttered by myself. This is along the same lines as my thoughts about diamond engagement rings. “DeBeers monopoly! Far overvalued! Excessive and unsavoury marketing practices! Attempts to purchase romance!” Suffice it to say I do not have a diamond ring, and I also do not receive gifts on Valentine’s Day. Clever, clever girl I am.
My feelings about Valentine’s Day have really changed since having kids. I need to word this delicately so as to not sound like a weirdo: I really enjoy getting Valentines from the kids. Or rather, I would really enjoy receiving Valentines from the kids, SHOULD THEY ACTUALLY THINK ABOUT IT. This, surely, is some kind of Valentine-related karma.
Now, I don’t want to seem creepy. The last thing in the world that I want is to be one of those mothers who say things like “I’ll always be his number one girl!” with regards to their sons. Or one of those mothers who think that no woman will EVER be good enough for her baby boy. Because we all know how those boys turn out, don’t we: either they live with their doting and creepy mothers forever or they come to despise their doting and creepy mothers and never speak to them again. Or only speak to them in forced, uncomfortable telephone conversations around statutory holidays.
That disclaimer out of the way, I really wish the boys would make me a Valentine of their own free will. This year, spurred on by last year’s trauma (which will be related shortly) Rob essentially made the boys feel so guilty that they made some paper hearts. Or rather, they said wanted to make paper hearts and as they lack then necessary artistic skills, I made the hearts and they decorated them. Last year, excited to receive my very first red-paper-and-doily preschool Valentine, I was, shall we say, disappointed to find that Mark had created that exact thing ADDRESSED TO HIS FATHER. This year, as we set out their cards to make for their classmates, both boys immediately set aside a special one JUST FOR DAD. Now, I’m ecstatic that they think their father is so awesome (as do I, by the way) but WHERE ARE MY VALENTINES, YOU UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN???? I have to think that those years of Valentine’s Day disdain has come back to bite me.
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