For those of you that are not my Facebook friends, you missed Reagan's sad introduction…
Valentines Day Special
I don’t like Valentine’s Day. I never really have. As a kid, it seemed like an opportunity for the popular kids to prove that they were popular. I never had a high school boyfriend, so Valentine’s Day in my teen years were depressing at best. As I watched other girls carry around their balloons and oversized teddy bears, it was like a thousand neon signs shouting that they were loved more than I was.
My first Valentine’s Day date was when I was 19. It was with a guy I had been casually dating for about a month although he had made it clear that he didn’t want a girlfriend. Yeah, I was an idiot. We didn’t really have that much in common and dinner was . . . quiet. My next two Valentine’s Days were spent home alone or at the Kappa house with pizza and ice cream. I don’t really remember them much. Other than hating Valentine’s Day along with every other single girl in the world.
Then, when I was 22, I was dating Jimmy. Only, we had only been officially dating a week and a half and it was a little early for, you know, VALENTINE’S DAY. We were also poor. He was student teaching (ie, not working) and I was substitute teaching and taking credential classes. Needless to say, we couldn’t really make a big deal out of it. As we sat watching tv and the endless adds for jewelry and special moments, he told me, “Next year, I’ll get you something good for Valentine’s Day.” Ok. We had only been dating a couple weeks and you’re already planning for next year?
So, the next year came around. The only thing was, we still didn’t have any money. All of it had been spent on our wedding the month before. That’s right – from just dating to married in 11 months. It seemed a little ridiculous to go all out for something as common as Valentine’s Day when we had just had a big wedding and a honeymoon in Coronado. In fact, every year it’s Christmas and then our anniversary and then . . . Valentine’s Day. Gifts seem pointless, dinner seems average. We always approach it with a sort of resignation, sometimes getting cards, sometimes not. A couple years ago, Jimmy was sick and I got an ice cream cake to share that he didn’t really feel up to.
So where are we this year? It’s our 8th Valentine’s Day together and as you can see, at 7pm, I’m blogging and he’s sleeping on the couch. It’s not like we were going to go out on a school night with a 7 1/2 month old (who fell asleep an hour early tonight – boo!) at home. Plus, Jimmy wasn’t feeling great. After a day of twitterpated high school kids on a sugar high and all those stupid balloons (still with the balloons!), it has left me uninspired yet again. My husband did put a smile on my face with a giant container of red vines (a gift I also received from him on our wedding day) and chocolate covered strawberries last week (he forgot which day Valentine’s Day is).
On the other hand, Reagan got presents. From boys. Ok, they were really presents from little boys’ moms, but I just find it laughable. Perhaps my baby girl will not be relegated to the life of Valentine’s Day hatred that I was. So, kiss the ones you love because regardless of how we feel about Valentine’s Day, the spirit of the day is to remember to tell our loved ones how special they really are to us.