It doesn't seem to matter what I do, Valentine's Day sucks. Every year. Now, I'm not even a big Valentine's Day girl. I don't expect roses, diamonds or champagne. And I don't even like those things, let alone want them. All I want is a nice quiet night with the ones I love. That's it. And every year, no matter what I do, it just doesn't happen.
This year Valentine's day was on a Friday. So there's no way in hell I'm going out. Too many people and variables including much too crowded restaurants and people out to prove their undying love once a year to stress me out. So by unanimous decision, we're staying home. Bonus, I get to share the night with my other love, cooking up a gourmetish meal for the family. Of course, before all that, I need to make it through the day.
As luck would have it, the hot tub we ordered weeks ago is being installed on Valentine's Day. Perfect for an adult evening of soaking after the kids have gone to bed under the night's full moon with a belly full of deliciousness capped with dark chocolate fondue infused with red wine and berries. Could it BE more romantic?
Wait. I didn't start at the beginning of the day. With a valentine to each of my kids personalized with my own prose of their most lovable characteristics and a box of chocolates for each of them. I was so excited for them to discover them when they woke, as I am whenever I do something special. But instead of getting a "thank you" or an "I love you" back, I got "This one is coconut, eeeeewwwwwwwwww, disgusting!" Ok, so this is a great start. No mention of my thoughtfulness and no reciprocated sentiments of heartfelt adoration. Which let me remind you, are the ONLY things I want.
Hot tub guy arrived late. The kids were inconvenienced because I couldn't to and fro them across the free world. "But, I need to be home when the hot tub guy arrives. Sometime within (or as it turns out) outside the specified window." Finally, my oldest settled for inviting a friend over to our house.
After the hot tub guy arrived and hooked up and began heating our hot tub, I delivered the bad news. "It's not going to be hot enough for you guys to go in tonight." Fully planning that my ass was going to stay up way past them and have some adult time in it basking in the glow of the night's full moon. I mean full moon people. Could it BE any more romantic?
"Mom, can ____________stay over for a sleepover?" Asked right in front of said child. Oh hell no! I cannot have sex on a night someone else's kid is sleeping over. I can barely have sex on a regular night when my own damn kids are at home. I can't risk traumatizing someone else's kid walking in on me and my husband having sex. Defeated on the home front, they asked _____________'s parents who said yes, on Valentine's Day. Which made me wonder…do they not adhere to the parental code? I mean no one has sex when there's a sleepover at their house. Right?
With one kid gone, there was more steak and shrimp to split between the 5 of us. "Ewwww…it's pink and chewy." And then the chocolate fondue was "too greasy". And then the kids selected a movie for all of us to watch: Bubble Boy. I just don't even have a comment on the movie. But, I did exactly what I do every time we watch a movie and the lights are dimmed. I fell asleep. And woke up for the credits.
As the kids got shuffled upstairs, we checked the temperature of the hot tub. Seventy freakin' one! There is no way in hell I can stay up until it reaches a dipable 103. So we just went to bed. There was nothing romantic about it, all the romance had been sucked out of the evening by the kids. We got a good couple of hours of unadulterated sleep when the wind started gusting at 75mph. Which in the past has ripped our windows off the hinges because our windows don't close all the way because of the settling of our house.
The only way to get them closed is to go out on the roof to push them from the outside. And if you're a new reader, you may not realize that my husband fell off the roof onto his fucking head and I thought the man was dead back in October. So, needless to say, I didn't sleep for the rest of the night worried about the windows, but more worried that someone I loved was going to get sucked out with the window or fall off the roof. Again. I guess, this brings me back to the true meaning of Valentine's Day, being with the people I love. And the fact that a "quiet night" with them is really unattainable and just might mean they're dead. And I'm ecstatic they're not.
But Valentine's Day can still bite me!