The Real Valentine’s Day
It’s here. Valentine’s Day. The day most of us love to hate and hate to love. I’ll admit it, I’ve been a hater for pretty much forever. Red hearts, plush toys, overpriced flowers, the naffness of it all and the pressure to show someone you care when that should not come from a place of pressure at all and it should happen freely, not on an allocated day.
I have boycotted it, I have shot an arrow through its heart and not in a good way. But this year, amid the absolute chaos of it all, the forever spinning hamster wheel of work, screaming kid, sleepless nights, washed laundry left inside the washing machine for TWO WHOLE DAYS because mummyyyyy, burning toast, overdone roast, dishwasher refill, dishwasher emptying, wooden play food under my pillow and dummies inside orange juice, I decided to take a day off. I decided on today because me and Big Human number 2 (partner in crime and dad to Small Human) have not had a break of the heart in too long. It’s so easy to just carry on on autopilot and have all your strength aimed at making sure everyone is fed, unbruised and alive and forget about what got us here.
Why today? Because there actually shouldn’t be anything wrong with having a day in the year where we stop and celebrate our hearts and the love that on a moment of TOTAL ENLIGHTENMENT OR MENTAL LAPSE decided to create this ball of energy that is our Small Human. Why not celebrate it on March 27th? I supposed for the same reason we moan and tear our hair out over Christmas but wouldn’t have it any other way and on any other day. Seriously, allocated days are bloody amazing.
I am currently writing this sitting in my PJ’s drinking real coffee IN SILENCE. It’s February and miserable outside but to me it feels gloriously glorious. Small Human has gone to nursery after waking up at 5:30 am, refusing breakfast, eating breakfast, asking for more breakfast and juice, not drinking the juice because YUCK MUMMY!, refusing to get dressed, climbing chests of drawers 23 times, finally allowing me to dress him, hating mummy, throwing an epic tantrum over his new pet hate – sweaters – throwing up because of epic tantrum, getting dressed again this time loving sweaters, loving mummy, and getting in the car with dad *mini fist pump*.
There are only 7 more hours left in this day that we can claim our own. First we are going to walk down the aisle at B&Q and get some paint for our coat hanger (WHO SAID ROMANCE WAS DEAD?). Then we will buy meat at the butchers because nothing says I love you like crackling. Then we are going to go to an actual real life restaurant and eat without doing a tour of their basement while chasing our boy with half a pitta bread hanging off the sides of our mouths. And then we may even go down to the pub and have a drink and get a little tipsy and look at each other and kiss, and celebrate before getting on each others nerves again over the speed of the hamster wheel. And that is kind of great.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!