I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. It has always felt a bit forced to me. The cards, the candy, the flowers, the need to gush about your love just because the calendar said so. I’ve always had a bit of a cynical view of the holiday. In high school and college I used to wear black on Valentine’s Day. For years John and I never really celebrated the holiday and we survived even when my college roommate was a die hard Valentine’s Day fan who went out of her way to make the holiday more than it was.
Then we had Jackson and that first winter the three of us was tough. Jackson had colic, John was working a lot and I was stuck at home most days feeling lost and a bit deserted. Going out meant bringing Jack with us and that wasn’t really possible because he had colic so bad that I wasn’t sure anyone would want to be around him. So we spent a lot of time at home with a screaming infant.
By February we were worn out and John decided it was time we got a break even if just for a little bit. We went to Philly for the night and while I wanted to just sleep at the hotel and call it a night. We ended up having dinner at an Irish Pub and then stopping in a wine bar before calling it a night at the ripe old hour of 10:30.
The next day we grabbed a quick breakfast of belgium waffles and then headed home to relieve my in-laws from baby duty. We didn’t need to rush home but I remember having an awful feeling of guilt that we had taken 24 hours to ourselves. But isn’t that what Valentine’s Day really is when you think about it? A chance to take time together as a couple.
So every year since we’ve done something. It doesn’t have to be big, there doesn’t have to be gifts (though those are nice) and it doesn’t have to be fancy but we’ve celebrated in some way. And I think that is what Valentine’s Day has given us, an excuse to say we’re going out as a couple and taking time for ourselves which in these years of having young children isn’t always easy.
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