In celebration of the day of love, I would like to bitch a little. I got home from dropping my littlest off at school and returned to my quiet home where I began to work like a very focused version of myself. I blazed through some work, a list of 300 things that pile up, like mommy lists do… and then I looked at my damn calendar! WTF! How many freaking Valentine’s Day parties do I have in the next five days? I love bunnies and chocolates and candies, but not only does my older son have a party tomorrow, for which we have zero valentines…
But thanks to overcrowding in the school system, I now have to buy out Wal-Mart’s fancy valentines section this afternoon for tomorrow and the—not one but two parties at my other son’s school!
I will get to run into the store after school and my work and between homework time and my date night with my older son (where I am taking him trampolining), cooking dinner and downloading some update for my work software, I am going to write 772 little freaking Valentine’s, which all the children will then throw away when they get home, unless they come with candy. Yes, I would love to encourage my son to help me write names. But that’s not gonna happen. He can barely concentrate long enough to finish his homework, that will now have to be done more quickly than usual, so we can go on date night. That means I’ll be writing the little names on the little cards with Sponge Bob or Superman or whatever other fabulous themed cards my son talks me into buying.
“No, we’re not buying those valentines, son. They’re ridiculous.”
“But I like them.”
“But I’m doing them, so I get to choose.”
“Mom, you need to let me be a kid. I don’t care if they’re ridiculous.”
“Son, you need to give me a freaking break because I am out of patience, and we have a lot of fun to have this evening… So don’t start with me.”
Ok, that’s not really how it’s going to go. But since I’m feeling dark and angry right now due to the constipated feel of sugar candies and tons of pink things floating about my house for the next week, that’s the conversation I just played out and will hone into something much more fabulously maternal, for the actual trip to the store. I realize fun should probably be, well fun.
OK, I feel better now. Off to pick up my kids, buy a flippin million valentines, stay up late making them while my son sleeps soundly, after a night of special mommy/son time. Off to buy three million snacks and make little envelopes for $3 to give to all the different classrooms and activities they are part of. And I’ll remember to smile and remember how precious these days are, so precious.