Today is Valentine’s Day, but for me and mine, it’s just another Tuesday. There were no flowers, chocolates or love notes on my pillow this morning- just a sore throat and feverish toddler. I call in sick yet again, before kissing my husband and little girl as they head out the door. I will spend the rest of today disguising tylenol in juice, wiping a runny nose and trying to sneak in some vitamin C and a nap for myself. The unvaccumed carpet, dirty dishes in the sink, and laundry piled in the bathroom will gnaw at me until my husband comes home with our oldest child and maybe even some flowers, because he’s sweet like that. We’ll eat and I’ll feel awful for not planning something special before we shower the kids and wrestle them into bed where they won’t sleep. He’ll break out his laptop for homework, while I clean up and surf social media before lights out. Tomorrow will be the same, except I’ll (hopefully) get to go to work.
It’s a far cry from our pre-family V-Day celebrations, but frankly I can barely recall any time that isn’t now because I am up to my eye balls in life. Do I miss dinners out, alone time, and sleeping-in? Hell Yes. Would I trade this for all the naps, dates and wine in the world? Absolutely not. I’m not writing this so people feel sorry for me, or as yet another nod to the drudgery of parenthood. I’m writing this because it’s Valentine’s Day- a day to celebrate love- Even when it’s stopped being about flowers and nights on the town.
So no you won’t see us at Morton’s or Michael Bolton, but tonight my husband will come home with milk (we’re fresh out) and be stoked on dinner, no matter what it is. We’ll talk about camping this weekend, a big girl’s birthday next week and revel in the thought of paying off a car note in March. Heck we might even have some wine and Netflix if he finishes his paper on time. It certainly isn’t sexy, but these little things make me feel loved every single day. If that isn’t worth celebrating, then I don’t know what is.
Happy Valentine’s Day, indeed ☺️