Will You be My Valentine?

In an ironic turn of events, I received only one (1) Valentine's Day card.

From my mother.

I'm not complaining. I love her too. She's been my Valentine for more years than I care to remember. My best cheerleader, champion, Queen of Optimism. If someone I had a crush on didn't like me, she would invariably say: "He's just jealous of you, honey. That's all."

Hmmm. I inspired a lot of jealousy in middle school. A lot.

But let's not forget that I am a mother now also, which means I retroactively forgive my mother for every bad thing she's ever done on account of finally understanding that our children are actually our emotional classrooms, a.k.a. the place we learn anger management. (Or in some cases, don't learn anger management.)

Whatever else may be true, I shall send Valentine's cards to my dear children. When no one else steps up to the plate, I will. When adolescence falls upon them like the bubonic plague, I will still testify to their utter appeal.

So, thanks, Mom. And thanks for the heart shaped box of chocolates. It's really nice to feel loved.

(And in a follow up to my ultimate Valentine's Day wish list, I DID get a Margarita.)