Tomorrow looms. Valentines day. It’s not the husband who minds. But as a mother of a 4 and 6 year old, I am living under some kind of lacking-the-maternal-foresight rock, here.
In case you’re my age, or within several decades, you may need to be reminded of the glossy cartoon cards and chalky word-candies that get passed around in schools.
I had forgotten.
Since last year, when I had also forgotten.
And the year before, you ask?
I remember answering the front door one Halloween. It took me several minutes to figure out why there was a ninja-princess-pumpkin pile on my doorstep. And when I told the darlings that I didn’t have any candy, that I had forgotten it was Halloween, I could see them deciding what kind of monster I was dressed up to be.
But I can’t flip off the lights and sit very still to avoid Valentines day. Not with class lists on pink paper. You’d think I’d notice the displays in the stores. But they arrive so early, I disregard them.
On the other hand, the Valentines day cupcakes the kids baked and brought home from grandma’s should have been a hint. Or the glitter encrusted heart pin they asked me to put on when they got home.
But no. Here it is. The night before valentines day, and not a scrap of candy in the house.
And I’m asking myself questions, I never thought would cross my mind as a professional.
Is it worse to throw a few loose raisins in the card, or leave it completely empty? Aged baking chocolate chips? Marbled with that white hoarfrost really old chocolate gets?
I search around the house. We have lots of legos.
Legos and cat hair. The trappings of an almost-40 mother
Sadly, neither legos nor cat hair are appropriate for stuffing valentines day envelopes.
Which reminds me, I don’t have any envelopes.
Just my two children. Their eyes sparkling with the excitement of a holiday where everyone gives and everyone gets. Or at least with the idea of candy. And cards. Sophia assures me, “I’ll get a card from everyone. Even you and daddy, mama.”
So instead of heading to bed, here I am, putting on
mittens to brave the garage in January… no, make that – February(you see the problem?). If I’ve survived parenthood this long, surely I can rig a valentine out of pvc pipe, spider webs, and old pizza boxes.