I know it’s not Valentine’s Day yet, but I have nothing going on anyway, so I might as well post early. I love Valentine’s Day. In fact, the longer I’m married, the more I love it. That’s because you start counting going to Wendy’s before an outing to the shoe store a “date.” That’s because the higher my pants size number gets, the lamer our dates get. That’s because you’ve been pregnant for the past two Valentine’s Days. That’s because nursing bras aren’t sexy. What I mean to say is the idea of a day when one MUST be romantic is appealing to me.
I’ll stop now. Nick hates Valentine’s Day though. I don’t know why. All he has to do is buy me expensive flowers and possibly a gift in exchange for some conversation hearts and a Hershey kiss. All that aside, Nick’s gone for the third Valentine’s in a row. So, I made a red and pink wreath to put on our door. It made me feel better. I kind of wanted to make Valentine’s Day bunting, but I was too tired. No one decorates for Valentine’s Day here anyway, it’s all Mardi Gras. Actually, maybe no one decorates for Valentine’s Day and I’m just in delusional elementary teacher mode.
Nick made up for being gone for Valentine’s Day by sending me this someecard.
I’m also crossing my fingers that he bought me an expensive piece of jewelry and hid it in my sock drawer, but I’ve been wrong before…
Final thought, Nick and I went on our first date eleven years ago on February 15. We were 16 years old. Now I’m pregnant with our second child. Think of how different that statement would sound if it said “We are 16 years old and I’m pregnant with our second child.”