Hating holidays is my husband's very favorite hobby. He puts a ton of effort into hating them as hard as any one person can. So, I don't expect TOO much out of him, but everything about this day joined forces with him to tank Valentine's Day in some of the most unusual, comical, and terrible (sometimes simultaneously) ways. Move along if this has been the most magical day of your life or you are one public urination story away from giving up on humanity.
February 14, 2013 started with a beautiful 2 hour snow delay for school, which my 5 year old subconsciously detected. He woke up before my alarm went off, and so cheerfully and LOUDLY announced "I know it's dark out, but I am WIDE AWAKE!!" Hot dog.
After fighting with the above 5 year old to get dressed, we finally had it together enough to read stories together. I gave them the books I got them for Valentine's Day early, since we had extra time together. That was nice. The refusal to put on his coat to get in the car, not so nice.
My 2 year old got a belly ache, and subsequently exploded while he was supposed to be napping and I was on the phone with my girl, D, from almost a country away. Needless to say that ended the call and prevented the nap altogether. I will add that he is feeling better, and was happy all day, even with the belly ache.
We picked up my 5 year old from school, and he had a successfully gluten free day with the support of his teacher and some planning on my part. (Yeah, I sent in all his party snacks to match what they were having, and even helped provide an ingredient in the treat mix his teacher was making to give each of the kids in their valentines, lots of work but worth it!) Then, we noticed all the candy his friends gave with their valentines contained copious amounts of Red 40, which he cannot have without turning into Satan. Even he realizes it makes him feel terrible and out of control. I was quick to sneak most of it away before he noticed it, but he spotted a red ring pop. He begged me for it. I told him I'd find something like it that wasn't red, and I was so sorry. But he kept begging.... "I promise I won't eat it, Mommy! I won't even give it one lick. I'll just smell it." It was so sad, and I didn't want him to torture himself with it, but I didn't want to take it from him and make him cry, either. Dietary restrictions SUCK.
Then I get the notice that my grandparents were in an accident, were in the hospital, and their car is likely totaled. (Currently one is home and one is still there, but just for observation. They should be fine, thank goodness.)
I made dinner for the family plus my sister, who had come over to watch our kids while we went out. After dinner, we gave the boys their little gifts. They instantly swap lego sets, and then I give my husband the gifts I had for him. He promptly leaves the room, and then returns with the SAME BOX OF CHOCOLATES I JUST GAVE HIM, and a card. He regifted the gift I just gave him... back to me! He also gave me a snickers bar from the pantry. Planning ahead is not his strong suit.
After telling him I was going to take a pic of my snickers bar to put up on FB with my friend's pictures of their beautiful flowers, purses, chocolates, and jewelry.... we headed out for our date. To our accountant. To do our taxes. Yes, taxes. My husband made the appointment for Valentine's night.
On the drive over, I spotted a man perhaps having a stroke or seizure, as he seemed to violently lose footing and run into the wall next to him as he was walking down the sidewalk. Luckily my fears were quickly squashed when we saw him just turn to pee on the wall, and himself, as he was wearing overalls. 'Cause if there was one thing missing from this day of red hot romance, it was watching steam come off of pee in the winter night as some drunk urinates in public, right around the corner from some couples all dressed up and holding hands as they strolled down the street in looooooove.
We made it to our tax appointment, mostly unscathed, just to find we were locked out of the building. All the other offices are abandoned at that time of night, and it's a dark, around the back of the building parking lot, so the creep-out factor was high. We call, no answer, knock on the window, no answer.... the lights were on, though. So we eventually head home, when our accountant calls, and tells us someone else locked the doors. So, at least we still got our taxes done?
So, there you have it! Our first Valentine's Day when I got a flat tire, and we ended up eating at Long John Silvers while it was replaced next door at the tire place, was a far better experience than today. However, they both have one thing in common.... I will never forget either of them.
And.... as my sister pointed out.... at least I didn't get dumped.
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