It’s 10 p.m. the night before Valentine’s Day, and I just realized about a three hours ago that I forgot to get cards in the mail for all parents, nieces and nephews, and grandparents. And yet, they all remembered us. I also realized I left Current Husband’s card at work, and I’m in the middle of my cycle so I can’t make it up to him with sex. We spent our evening making Youngest Daughter’s valentines for her class, which once again waited until the 11th hour. I volunteered at the elementary school tomorrow night after the third e-mail that said “WE ARE DOWN TO THE WIRE AND NO ONE IS HELPING DON’T LET OUR KIDS DOWN!!”, painting nails at their dance, so I can’t go out with highly neglected and blue-balled CH. I also said I’d bring cookies to said dance, but since I haven’t had time to make any, I’ll be racing to the grocery store after work tomorrow night for frozen pizza and valentine’s cookies, which begs the question,
“HOW THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE ALL GETTING THIS STUFF DONE?”
Seriously. Stop it. I’m tired and I can’t keep up. You’re all lapping me.
Luckily, Valentine’s Day is a third tier holiday in our house, because CH and I think every day is Valentine’s Day (except the days I want to put the pillow on his face and hold it tight), and we both agree that this is one of those Guilty Holidays brought to you by the card and flower industry. I made him SWEAR tonight not to send me flowers. Send them on July 11 for no reason and the Return on Investment will be tenfold.
Skip the gifts and tell someone you love them. Give your people extra hugs. I’ll take this moment to say thank you, Wifers, for still reading this blog even when all I do is complain, talk about my period, and make STD jokes. Happy Valentine’s Day to you. I’ll leave you with this gift from my heart.1