Post Valentine’s Day Blues; I Think.

The kids gave my husband and I some adorable cards for Valentine’s Day.  They take it so seriously that I have to pinch myself to remind me how lucky I am. The hubster came home–late–for a change, and pulled our cards out of a white drugstore bag and handed out them out.  The youngest’s had a picture of a ferret on the front–which is great cause she wants a pet rat in the worst way and we will not back down on our standards to get her one, and the oldest has a puppy on hers, which is great, cause it was just a little over a year ago, that she looked at her father and I with teeny tiny Ginger in her hands and said, “please, daddy” (note that Ginger is now 80 pounds).  She is our dog lover! My card is beautiful, it is embroidered with the word ‘love’ across it.  Which is sweet, cause I love anything that is sewn, and the sentiment was beautiful–he even added his own words to personalize the message.  But something was missing.  When I was a kid, Valentine’s Day was something almost like Easter.  I would wake up, and find surprises at the end of my bed or on the floor in my room, etc.   I do the same for my kids.  When they sat at the table for homework yesterday, I had on the table a four-pack of Stewart’s root beer (their favorite which I hardly every buy cause it is soda and they seem to think they have to guzzle every bottle within an hour), and a box of Little Debbie’s (again, which I hardly ever buy cause they seem think they have to eat all 12 in one sitting).  They were thrilled!!  It was so wonderful to see their faces and to watch them drink the whole 4 pack in 15 minutes.  The empty bottles are still in my sink waiting to be brought out the recycling bin.  At this point in my life, I send surprises to my parents for the big holiday.  I sent them a box of chocolate covered strawberries.  How wonderful that I can do that for them.  I love being able to return at least a portion of the surprises they gave me when I was a kid.  Of course I’ll never measure up, but I’m passing the love on to my kids.  So, at this age, I realize that in fact, nothing was missing.  I am able to give the girls the same Eastery feeling that my parents gave me as a kid.  I’ll never forget the Valentine’s morning that I woke up and there was a cute little pink flamingo hanging from the pull string on the ceiling fan in my bedroom.  I was 16.  I remember it like it was yesterday and will always hold it dearly.