I have always been one of those cheeseball people who really loves Valentine's Day. When I was really small, my mother and I would always make homemade Valentines with red/pink construction paper, dolies and magic markers. In elementary school I loved the candy, decorating my Valentine "mailbox" and selecting the latest hip Valentine (and when I say "hip", I mean Gem--she was truly outrageous after all). Later, it became about the boyfriends, but I have always been a pretty traditional Valentine lady. I like a big heart-shaped box of candy and a dozen red roses. I am a dork that way. Feel free to send me a Barbie valentine, though.
Sadly, this year, there is little time for celebration. With only one hour time slots of freedom, a sore and unattractive body and the fussiest baby this side of the Charles River, R and I will have a much more subdued V-day (and when I say subdued I mean, I will run to the gym, we will order takeout and MAYBE we will be able to get a movie in before yet another sleepless night with the banshee baby). Did I mention Samara has decided sleep is passe? Yes, sleep has been declared so last season and this year "the new black" is screaming all night until your parents want to throw themselves out of their first floor window. Yes, we are mighty tired and mighty irritable. Gone are the days where the baby slept and gone are the days where all we would have to do tonight is go to dinner and exchange cheesy gifts. Maybe we will exchange heart shaped boxes of chocolates again after Samara leaves for college. Right before we break out the champagne and sleep the roughly three-year deficit we should have accrued by then.