When my husband and I were first dating (like a million years ago), we spent our first Valentine’s Day at the Olive Garden, where all my 15-year-old dreams for what that night should be came true. Listen, Honey. Times have changed. The baby’s got strep throat, and the toddler just crapped his pants.
1. It’s cliché. Like, a few years ago when we went to the trendy restaurant in town. You walk in the place and, within seconds, feel like a total schmuck. Because you’re the suckers who decided that because it’s Valentine’s Day, the “thing to do” is go out to dinner. And you look around at all the other schmucks. And then, you all look at the floor (which, of course, is covered in red glitter confetti). So together, you’re all ready to pay a premium to eat in a packed restaurant with rushed service because the freaking calendar says February 14. Fail.
2. No babysitter on this side of Mars is available. I mean, seriously. I have a hard enough time booking my sitters for a random Tuesday night in the middle of August. Babysitters are busier than my bathroom at 8am on a school day. Their social calendars are booked weeks in advance, with sports, other jobs, boyfriends and the like. So, you better believe that they’ll definitely be busy on the big V-Day. And, if not, they’ll charge a premium to watch your monsters on the day they think they should be with their boyfriends. No thanks.
3. It’s expensive and lame. Back to our V-Day dinner a few years back. OMG, it was soooo cookie cutter. The whole place was separated into rows of oh-so-predictable tables for 2, and it looked like the red balloon fairy had vomited all over the place. We chose dinner from a fixed menu and mediocre wine selections (no doubt planned that way by the restaurant, in order to manage the deluge of tables they’d have all night). The server had way too many tables and barely any experience. Oh, and for dessert, it was our choice of sweetheart red velvet cake, or a pre-made cheesecake with nasty heart-shaped sprinkles on top. The bill was no less than $140. Ugh.
4. I’m lame. Let’s face it: my version of a perfect night usually looks something like this:
Roses and chocolate-covered strawberries are completely wasted on me, as my biggest turn-on these days is my husband doing the dinner dishes, putting gas in my car, letting me shower alone, letting me go to bed early or simply massaging my massively-swollen 30-week-pregnant feet. (Just one of those. Not all. I mean, really. The bar is so low at this point.) In short, if I can craft an easy, themed dinner for the family (like the ones the #glowgirls suggested on the Facebook page), in sweats and no makeup, and make it to bed, this side of 8:30pm to give my hubby a back massage, a kiss and tell him he’s amazing, I’ll consider the night a total success.
5. I need to show love to my husband every day of the year. There are lots of simple ways to show love to my husband all year long, and they’ve got nothing to do with champagne or hearts. Complimenting him to our kids. Looking him in the eye when he’s speaking. Making coffee just the way he likes it. And, he romances me too. In the way he speaks to our children. The way he prays with them before bed, as I eavesdrop over the video monitor. The way he looks at my pregnant belly, and with a warm smile and a sparkle in his eye, says, “You’re so cute.”
The beautiful moments are everyday.
This February 14 thing is just for schmucks.
Are you going out for Valentine’s Day? Why or why not?