In an effort to teach my two almost three year olds the concept of time and its current organizational construct, I drew up a calendar on the white board of our art easel. In each square day, I try to draw a symbol or write the name of a friend we will see, and as we mark off days, then we discuss how last Tuesday we saw our friend so-and-so, and then the day after that we went over to grandma’s house. I am hoping that a better grasp of the concept will avoid conversations like this one:
Mom: “Hey guess what? Tomorrow we are going to go play with grandma, won’t that be fun?”
Kids: (running for coat rack) “Yay! Let’s go!”
Mom: “Uhm, no, wait a sec guys… that’s tomorrow. First we have to have dinner and a bath and put PJs on and then go to sleep, then we wake up and THEN we can go to grandma’s.”
Kids: “NO! I don’t want to go to sleep! I want to go to grandma’s!”
Mom: “No… it’s not bedtime yet…we’re going tomorrow…oh man… uhm… anyone want a fruit bar?”

So Thursday is marked with a big red heart. This morning in my email I received a little meme poll asking me to choose what my favorite thing is about Valentine’s Day. I was a bit taken aback when my top pick answer was “could care less”. Well, that and “chocolate”. Now, that isn’t true, IS IT? I thought to myself, cancelling out of participating at all as it might incriminate me as having lost all romantic sensibilities. I love my husband, we haven’t lost the spark… we just function on a lower voltage after a long day with job and kids. Is that so wrong?

Last year on Valentine’s Day, I think it snowed… so my husband and I mutually decided to cancel our reservation at Gilmore’s and we got some crab legs from the Acme. We had a nice candle lit dinner at home after the kids were in bed. But this year, I have to admit, I am conflicted. Getting seafood means clean-up afterward. Kids in bed at seven… dinner… clean up… will we be done in time for Survivor? It IS Thursday after all… the one and only evening of the week that we actually want to watch the same shows on TV. Would it be terribly uncouth to drink bubbly while listening to the recap of how Johnny Fairplay got sent home? And as I think this, part of me, the part who has had pretty fabulous Valentine’s in the past, the part who spent years not watching TV at all, shudders…who IS this Mommy who would rather watch the budget and the boob tube than dress up and drive somewhere and show off her boobs?

But the thing is, about Valentine’s Day; it feels like I am supposed to WANT something. And the toughest part of staying at home with these small children is that you can’t think that way. If you spend too much time thinking about what you want, personally, you can get terribly depressed… or perhaps that’s just me? But I know when we all watch Finding Nemo, again, I have to admit that I really would rather be watching the Travel Channel or Iron Chef. And when we are sitting in the McDonald’s playland, I can think of several other lunches I would prefer to be gnoshing on.
But it isn’t a big deal.
That’s the thing.
Time marches on. And I don’t think it is unreasonably optimistic to think that there will be plenty of Valentine’s Days to come, and plenty of time to go out once the budget is more stable, and the kids are more portable and more easily babysat. And when my son comes over to me and says, “Mommy, you are my best friend,” I think maybe it is me who needs to relearn her conceptions of time, and simply enjoy this before it is over.