It’s Valentines Day.
When I was a kid, I looked so forward to it. Waking up to little goodies like stuffed animals and googly-eyed stickers from my parents.
Then, the celebration would continue at school with a sweet party and those little cards that we would put in our homemade, lovingly decorated valentines mail box. We’d tear through the cards in hopes that our crush gave us a special one with maybe a hand drawn heart or just a hint that he/she reciprocated that crush.
We’d come home strung out on sweets.
High school, Valentines Day would mean pink, red or white carnations would be delivered to classrooms. We’d sit in angst, wondering if any would be sent to us by anyone other than our best friends, although, those MAJORLY counted, too.
We’d come home depressed because no boys loved us the way we loved them.
The older I got, the less I cared about Valentines Day.
Here, I’m going to say it. I don’t give a rat’s tuchas about Valentine’s Day.
It’s a marketing holiday where prices are jacked up on everything from waxy chocolates to fixed menus at fancy restaurants.
I don’t mind not getting anything. EVER.
I do, though, care enough about it that I go out, every single year and buy all that gimmicky crap for my darling children.
You’d think it was Chanukkah if you saw all the stuff I purchased for them.
No, I don’t do anything for my husband. Maybe I would if he cared about the holiday. But, I think that I met my match when it comes to bah-humbuging the romantics.
Despite my lack of excited participation in the celebrations…
I wish you, my sweet friends, a very HAPPY Valentines Day.
Be Mine. You’re Cute. True Love. You Rock. Hug Me. And all those other conversation heart sayings from me to you.