I love Valentine’s Day.
Do I care that it’s a “manufactured holiday designed to sell greeting cards?”
I don’t even particularly care much about the history of St. Valentine. Once upon a time I would have used it as a justification for my love of the holiday, but I don’t really feel that I need one.
My history is the one that matters to me right now.
Fancy foil wrapped chocolates from my grandmother. The card I got from a boy at school that featured Superman and Wonder Woman, and I assume it meant he LOVED ME. The skirt my mom helped me hand paint with kiss prints.
For me Valentine’s Day has always been about love in all its forms. Family and friends, not just lovers. Two of my children were born just days before Valentine’s Day. It was as though the holiday manifested itself in the faces of my two new, sweet babies. And I love any excuse to do something special for my kids.
To those who say we should love all year long...DUH.
If you think my husband bringing me flowers and candy on February 14 means he only loves me one day a year...why do you think that?
I don’t care if people like V-Day or not. But don’t pee on my doilies, please.
I have four children. If I have one day a year where I have a really good excuse to wear fishnets, stay out late, spend “quality time” with my husband and sleep in the next day while drinking wine and eating chocolate, I’ll take it. I mean, that’s all the stuff I do anyway but it’s nice to have a REASON.
Plus, I look great in red.