Growing up, I never really thought much about Valentine’s Day. I’d sign a valentine for every kid in my class, put them in the little boxes we made, and then really enjoy eating the candy I somehow always got.
As I grew older, I pushed back on that whole St. Valentine thing. I don’t know much about the man except that he was a saint–and if he was a saint, well, that doesn’t feel so Jewish to me. I didn’t mind getting flowers or candy if someone decided to give them to me, but I wasn’t going to go searching for Valentine’s Day celebrations. It just didn’t quite feel right to me.
But now that I’m parenting a 3.5-year-old, holidays have taken on a whole new meaning. They’re an excuse to celebrate, to dress up, to make decorations, to bake cookies, or anything. And when it’s winter and the playground is covered with snow–well, indoor activities are even more welcome. So this year, Valentine’s Day has been a huge hit in our house. We’re cutting out hearts, buying heart stickers, and using only red and pink paper. We made cards for family, neighbors, and friends. There’s decorations on the door to our apartment, on the walls, and the other day I found a red heart sticker on the baby’s shirt. And we have plans to bake cookies and use only our heart-shaped cookie cutter.
I guess I’ve fallen in love with Valentine’s Day. It’s been an incredibly welcome distraction during superstorm Nemo, through countless stuffy noses, and when the baby cries (“It’s okay sweetie, just go make another valentine!”)