Lots of people get disgruntled on February 14th
A major perk associated with the end of the world come December: no more Valentine’s Day! It’s a completely pointless ‘holiday’ that has become a slave to commercialism and sets unrealistic expectations. Try bowing down to my greatness the other 364 days of the year. Don’t attempt to woo me with jewelry, chocolate, and flowers, you big cliché you. Restaurants that offer affordable dining specials are the only redeeming quality of this gag-inducing spectacle. During my first pregnancy some strange man pretending to be my husband took me to Salsa in Memphis and we got quite a lot of bang for our buck. Food is the quickest way to my heart.
The previous paragraph does not come from a bitter place. I don’t mind seeing my Facebook newsfeed flooded with pictures of your loot. I’m happy that you are pleased with your day and the material goods you received. If it’s a ‘valentine’ you seek, I sincerely hope that you find one who treats you with the utmost love and respect and brings joy to your heart. Flaunt that all you want. Just don’t let one day of rampant consumerism distract you from the work that goes into love and relationships and the true meaning behind these concepts– not something that can be reduced to a single day that’s a victory for Hallmark.
With that being said….one of my girlfriends wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day with me. I can’t reveal her name because she blew off a work soiree [oops] to come to my place, but we did have fun. She came armed with the essentials– lots of TV dinners, pink mocktails, and her copy of Breaking Dawn Part 1. Stop laughing. I encouraged this idea because I was very curious to see how a vampire and a recent high school graduate of the human variety would consummate their marriage on screen. All I could think of throughout the entire first half of the movie [I saw Twilight several years ago but haven't followed the others] was: “That is NOT Bella’s mother! Her name is NINA MYERS and she’s a very evil woman. She’s trying to destroy Jack Bauer and that simply cannot happen.” Once we got to the infamous ‘bedroom scene’ I felt kind of uncomfortable. Not nearly as uncomfortable as I felt watching Dakota Fanning in The Runaways but uncomfortable nonetheless.
Isn’t it funny how things change within the course of a year? February 14, 2011….Adam’s preschool class at Emmanuel had a party. He enjoyed the party but wasn’t too keen on me asking him if he had crushes on any girls, ha. When he came home we put stickers on his second box of Thomas valentines– for his other preschool class at Germantown Presbyterian– and made sugar cookies [the slice and bake kind since Mommy can't bake in the homemade sense] and watched Sprout.
Who knows what he did at school this year? Nobody from the preschool will answer any of my questions or even speak to me. We didn’t get to talk on the phone either. It’s so confusing and upsetting to him talking to people that he can’t be with and doesn’t understand why. I don’t want him conversing more than once a night [even though he is allowed to call me nightly and my parents as often as possible] because he understands too little for it to be of much comfort to him….so tonight’s phone call went to Bapa & Gigi. The extent of my ‘involvement’ with Adam this year was a lousy video. As I told a friend earlier: “Making a video for Adam drains me. As much as I love doing them, it’s so hard to plaster a smile on my face and act happy. Knowing he enjoys them is the only thing that gets me through it. After I make one I can’t even bear to watch it….I curl up in the fetal position and cry.” I love you, Adam. You’ll always be my valentine.
With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,
Sloane
