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F*ck You, Valentine’s Day

It’s not like I really need you, Valentine’s Day.

Sure, you’re a well-marketed, forced reminder to shower those you love with candy and gifts.  But I do loving things for my family all through the year.  I don’t just wait until that mystical day in February to let them know they are loved and appreciated.

Like the other day, when I made a big chicken pot pie for dinner, and my husband suggested I get ramekins so that next time I could make smaller, more time consuming, individual chicken pot pies.  I didn’t bludgeon him to death, because that’s love.

And when Connor asked me for the 378th time to watch Spy Kids, which we don’t even own, I did not run screaming down the street like a lunatic.  Because I love him (not because I was still in my pajamas).

Expectations.  I don’t like the expectations that you bring.  Because of you, “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” and Zale’s is pressuring me to “Be Brilliant.”

See, I'm already brilliant.

Look, I’m short and pudgy and I have a bad back.  My personality can best be described as a cross between Ouiser from Steel Magnolias, and Roseanne.  The last thing I need is candy, and if I can’t even afford to go on vacation then jewelry would just be ridiculous, and much too flashy for the local Wal-mart.

Except I'm not southern...

Except I don't cook Hamburger Helper and I have better decor...








No, I don’t want a massage certificate because I don’t want to lay on a table, wrapped in a towel, obsessing over my cellulite.  Also, I will not be going out to dinner because the idea of paying 20% more for a meal than I would on a regular Saturday night makes the bargain hunter in me clench up tighter than an Emo guy’s skinny jeans.

This just can't be comfortable.

And the other reason, Valentine’s Day, that I not only don’t need you, but DESPISE you?

Because of you, and this ridiculous tradition of giving out small, cardboard cards to every classmate, my son had a MEP (meltdown of epic proportions) yesterday, that last an hour-and-a-half.  That’s right, screaming, crying, running out of the room, begging to go to bed early…all because he could not deal with writing 21 names down on those cards.

Those fucking, fucking fuck-cards.

And it’s been over a year since the last MEP.  I’m reluctant to say that, because so many parents are dealing with this daily.  But I was foolish enough to believe that we were past that hurdle, that we had progressed beyond those days.

But thanks to you, Valentine’s Day, you took a perfectly happy Sunday afternoon and you shit all over it.  And you made me take out my rusty ABA skills so I could “hold the demand” and steer us through the rocky waters and complete the task.

It may have ended well, with Connor’s mood improving once he finished, but I will not forget this.

I will not forget.

Perhaps I will begin serving Hamburger Helper often, and save up to take a vacation during Valentine’s Day next year.

And since we won’t be doing those damn cards again, hopefully it will be an MEP-free vacation.


About Flannery

Kid, husband, dogs, my mother, full-time job, maximum stress, minimal relaxation...sooner or later I had to vent. AND we moved from California to Texas. I could start a whole other blog about that.

22 responses »

  1. OUISER!!!

    “I’m pleasant! DAMMIT! i saw Drum Eatington at the Piggly Wiggly the other day, and i SMILED at the sonofabitch before i could help myself!!”

    Ouiser is my hero. I plan to become an old southern woman, wear funny hats and grow vegetables in the dirt.

    And you know there is NO WAY she was a fan of Valentines Day.

  2. I have yet to send Christmas or Valentines Day cards to all the kids in the class. We have gotten dozens of them and I don’t feel guilty at all about not reciprocating. It’s just 1 headache I don’t need. #TeamNoCards

  3. Through this post, I have just learned that I have never spelled “Ouiser” correctly once in my life. Which is shameful of me because she is awesome and I love her more than my luggage.

    I suck as a mom because I did my son’s Valentine cards (all 39 of them) myself! I could see the fight coming, and I just didn’t have it in me, so I took the easy way out.

    Now that your Valentine cards are done, you should have plenty of free time to make individual chicken pot pies, right? I really don’t see the problem here.

    Happy Valentine’s Day, Flan!! I HEART you!!!

    • I had to google Ouiser. Is she not the best, or what? When we lived in Atlanta I kept wishing I had a neighbor like that, but sadly, they were just a bunch of uptight southern ladies.

      You don’t suck. I am totally either doing them myself or skipping them next year. It wasn’t worth the grief, I’ll tell you that much.

      Love you loooooooong time, my friend!!!

  4. Oh Flannery – we would get along just fine. I absolutely despise VD – such a waste of a day.

    Kudos to you and your boy for getting those cards done. And here I was complaining about having to make 6 valentines for Norrin’s class.

  5. Oh my god, Flannery, you’re awesome. When you wrote the part about the melt-down over writing the cards, I got all warm and fuzzy. I wonder how many other parents had to have a fight over the fuck cards???!!! Actually…it was my daughter who melted down over them. Jack whipped through them so quickly and without a fight I nearly fainted. He did punch me when I told him it was bath night though. Oh, and we never did do our home reading homework.

    Oh wait…where was I…

    • No, YOU’RE awesome! LOL, I’m glad I didn’t get punched! But man, after that nightmare, screw the cards. I’ll send him with a bag of Valentine’s suckers next year and call it good.

  6. I’m procrastinating. Not about “getting” the cards or the effing candy that goes with it or the stupid expensive-even-when-I-want-to-be-cheap teacher bribes/presents, but about the writing of the names… You have shown me I was right!! I’m glad you made it through but this so totally reinforces my desire to either stamp the name, go “Grace-style” and do it myself or – my favorite – buy pre-made stickers with my kid’s name on it and stick them on!! Yay for cheating!! Ahem – creative mothering… 😉

  7. We went through that tonight. And after the meltdown came the obsessing. “Are the kids going to give me cards?” “Yes Connor” “What type of cards” “I don’t know” “Will I like them” “Yes I’m sure you will” “What if someone gives me a girl’s card?” And on and on and on. Oh and my husband is out of town until Wednesday. And, and and, so long story short (too late I know) I agree and wish we could just skip over to Wednesday.

  8. I laughed when we got the assignment of writing LM’s name on 25 little cards. Then I had a shot of whisky (it really helps!), went hand-over-hand to write her name one time, photocopied the sucker, and taped it to the cards. Written, addressed, and DONE!

    Happy Valentine’s day 😛

  9. I would highly recommend ditching town the few days before VD and have your mother do all the damn cards with the kids. Totally worth the stay at the Motel 6, Holiday Inn, whatever. She got stuck with it all! And we’re buying a stamper for next year. I’m sick to shit of him writing his name over and over and over and having a meltdown by about the 5th time he writes his name.

    You want me to send you some ramekins? I have some as a wedding gift that have been sitting for 10 years and I’ve never used them. Who gives ramekins as a wedding gift anyway???

    • ‘Bout fucking time you got back!!

      I saw some ramekins at Pier One that I might have to go back and get, so I can continue my pursuit of being the best domestic goddess on the planet. (gag)

      I would never give ramekins as a wedding gift. Cash or liquor, best wedding gifts ever!

  10. The only reason to own ramekins is to make creme brulee. The only reason to make creme brulee is to have a torch. The only reason to have a torch is to set fire to Hallmark. I’m assuming you can understand why I didn’t do well in college logics, however, I have yet to find any rational parent with a child on the spectrum to disagree with this.

  11. Haha, I have a lot in common with Roseanne as well. Love that show.


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