Ode to Fabruary 16

For the last two days Valentines Day has been the primary conversation topic on Facebook. Who got what, photos of flowers, chocolate, cards, excited exclamations of "going to Vegas!" and "best Valentines EVER!" And then there are the single people who hate Single Awareness Day and go into a three day funk because they didn't get overpriced flowers from someone who has been reminded every day for the last six weeks to think of their special someone.

My gift from the lover of my soul.

I can't make myself really give a hoot about this Day of Love. I'd blame the boyfriend of mine for dumping me on or near Valentines day in the sixth grade, but it seems like maybe I should be over that as we are both happily married to other people. I'd blame the fact that it's my mother's birthday, but I think that's just an excuse for me to pretend it isn't a holiday that needs anything but birthday cake. I'd blame the fact that I worked at a flower shop during February once and saw with my own little eyes that they do, in fact, double the prices of arrangements the week of Valentines. I wonder if I'm just jaded about anything that puts a price on love.

On Sunday, when we'd dropped in at Alco to buy a birthday card for my mom, I decided to also grab valentines for my kiddos. Though it was her birthday, my mother always had a heart shaped box of chocolates sitting on our pillows when we woke up. (You would think this alone would make me love the holiday.) While in line there (after scoffing at the various gifts Alco offered for sale), Hubs accused me of robbing him of any valentines gifts and THAT'S why I never got anything. "You've ousted flowers, you've ousted jewelry, you've ousted chocolate...."

I don't deny it.

And of course, this conversation happened because I offered to go buy myself flowers at the grocery store. Which I did, while buying groceries, and picking up flowers for my mother and Gramps (from Charming who insisted Granny wasn't the only one in need of flowers). Which really means I didn't so much buy them for myself as swipe a few out of their bunches when we put them in the vase.

 My gift to myself, using Hub's money, which I would have skipped had I'd known.

And now the truth comes out: When we were first married, we were broke. I couldn't abide him spending money on flowers that would die in a week when we needed important things like vacuums, or groceries. I don't want him to buy a necklace in a certain shape just because the guys in jewelry design decided that three diamonds in a row symbolized past, present, and future, or whatever. I think this year it was overwhelmingly the open heart collection, but I'm not sure as we have (thank my heavenly father above) DVR.

I don't know why I'm such a crankus about Valentines Day. I guess I would just rather my husband showed up unexpectedly on a Tuesday in June with a flat of annuals for me to plant. That's what says. "I know you" to me. Or a bag of sour gummy worms. Or better yet, a frozen cappuccino from Quick Trip.

This year, after I came home from the grocery store, I discovered a bunch of flowers on my table. During our discussion at Alco, I told him he was allowed to buy me flowers now that we have two dimes to rub together....as long as he bought either the bunches at the grocery store OR a potted plant that won't die. But I'll be honest, I didn't expect him to. I expected him to thank me for buying my own flowers. Instead, I think he was a little exasperated that I did.

 The flowers from my lover. Notice their prime location next to the computer.

Later, we had my parents over for a birthday dinner and then we went to watch our middle son perform as a rapping beaver in the grade school production of The Bear Went Over the Mountain. It was so humorous, my cheeks ached all evening. He then put the squirts to bed, primarily Charming who was making me ca-razy. And disappeared downstairs to watch the shelacking of the Jayhawks while letting me go to bed early. The man knows me.

That, and he let me use my Valentines money saved to buy a new vacuum.

I think I'll keep him.

And rejoice that Valentines Day won't come around for another 363 day.