Happy Valentine’s Day

Posted on February 14, 2011 by Mrs Odie

Happy Valentine’s Day. It usually feels weird to say that to people with whom you are not in love. I mean, I love you, but I’m not IN LOVE with you. On Friday, I had a couple of students give me flowers and chocolates and one gave me a hug. I’m always uncomfortable with but flattered by such displays of affection from my “clients.” I’d rather talk about prepositions. Who wouldn’t?

This morning, I am delighted to have the day off. And I mean a real day off. Not an “oh my God, how bad is the substitute going to mess up my shit?” day off. I don’t have to work today. These two three-day weekends in a row are the reason Odie and I chose the dead of winter for our wedding. We had a weekend wedding, a whole seven-day honeymoon, but only missed 5 days of work. Every year, around the time of our anniversary, we get some extra long weekends to help us celebrate. Plus, we never have to celebrate Valentine’s Day because we celebrate our anniversary instead.

Sadly, this year, he had Friday off while I have Monday off. We each get one day alone though, and I think we both need it. I know I need it. Even as I sit here typing, I keep glancing at the video baby monitor out of habit. I think I’ll need another hour or so to believe that I can really just relax.

I dropped V off at preschool this morning a bit later than usual. She had a rough night of tossing and turning, so I let her sleep beyond her 6:00 wake-up time. Even though Odie had to go to work today, it’s a light duty day for him too, not having to get V dressed and fed while I shower and get ready. Extra nice for me not having to listen to “I don’t want it!” “But you asked for it!”

“I don’t want it!”

“If you don’t want it, then why did you ASK FOR IT?!” all through my shower. When I signed her in at school and put her lunch box in the fridge, I noticed the neat stacks of Valentine’s Day cards. Some of the other children’s mothers took some time this weekend to prepare little cards for the other kids in the class.

Aww, isn’t that just… RIDICULOUS?!

My first reaction is one of guilt and inadequacy. I am not that kind of mom. I don’t bake cookies, sew, or make handmade Valentine’s Day cards. I don’t even buy the ready-made ones. I don’t have a stash of glitter, construction paper, and paint pens for these occasions. I used a hot glue gun once. I was a bridesmaid three months after V’s birth, and I was asked to help assemble bouquets. This involved taking a bunch of flowers, wrapping them in ribbon, and hot gluing the ribbon closed, ideally without leaving a big, obvious dripping blob of glue visible. How did I do? They don’t call it a “hot” “glue” gun for nothing. That shit is scalding and sticky. I’m glad there were more skilled disciples of Martha Stewart than I to assist the bride with these tasks. I’m also glad there were ice buckets nearby to chill the champagne and numb my second degree burns.

I don’t get excited around holidays as some do because of the crafty possibilities they bring. Unless it’s a work holiday, there’s nothing to be excited about, as far as I’m concerned. All my life I’ve felt less-than the women who throw together themed cocktail parties and hand-address nifty little cards. Now that I’m approaching 40, I think it’s time to just accept that I’m not one of them. Will the other moms at preschool point me out to each other and whisper, “There’s the one who didn’t make any cards for Valentine’s Day”? Probably not. When V is older, if she wants to hand out valentines to her classmates, I will do everything I can to assist. But she isn’t even two yet. The only real reason to hand out Valentine’s Day cards when your child is under two is to impress the other mommies with how crafty and together you are. Congratulations, other mommies. I am suitably impressed by your crafty togetherness. You win this month’s Kelle Hampton Award for Making Useless Shit to Clutter up Other People’s Houses. The landfill will be that much prettier.

So, on to my day off. I see a bubble bath, some trashy TV, and leftover birthday cake from Grandma’s celebration in my future. To all of you marrieds and coupled readers, I wish you a day full of remembering why you love the one you’re with. To my single friends, I wish you a day full of not having douchebags make you feel like there’s anything wrong with being single. And I’ll race you to the grocery store for half-priced chocolate tomorrow, which we can agree is the very best part of Valentine’s Day, after all.

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Wedding Week Memories

Posted on February 12, 2011 by Mrs Odie

Odie has a terrible memory. It makes me sad for him when he tells me that he doesn’t have the sharp details of certain moments accessible the way I do. Our wedding four years ago was more of a week than it was a day. Every year around our anniversary, I savor the memories of the lead-up to our day, the day itself, and its aftermath. Yesterday, we enjoyed a rare lunch alone in our favorite expensive restaurant while V was at preschool. Technically, it was the day AFTER our anniversary we were celebrating, but there is plenty to remember from that day as well.

We had a “destination wedding,” so everyone who attended (about 28 people) was from out-of-town. The morning after our wedding, we had a farewell brunch with the leftover champagne as mimosas and the leftover potatoes au gratin as breakfast potatoes. My maid of honor (or honorable maiden as she prefers to be called) served up French toast for all. The round tables from the night before were still set up in the living room of the home we rented, table cloths stained with red wine and cake frosting. The morning was chilly and misty, so our decision to spend $200 on outdoor heaters paid off handsomely as we enjoyed coffee on the balcony and watched clouds snuggle around the red rocks.

Most of our guests departed for home right after brunch. Some were flying home to Washington and Maryland, others driving to California or Colorado. I was sad to see them go, but looking forward to the week ahead: champagne in the hot tub looking at stars, hiking along gorgeous trails, giggling about what my substitute was probably doing RIGHT NOW while I sipped a margarita over lunch.

We rented a stunning home with spectacular views for the four-day weekend, Thursday-Sunday, while we stayed in a different “honeymoon home.” Because the wedding house would otherwise go empty on Sunday night after everyone left, we persuaded some friends to stay on an extra night of free lodging in the five bedroom house. We hiked to watch the sunset, had a wonderful dinner out, and got to stretch out our “special day” for one more day and night.

Over lunch yesterday, I told this story to Odie as if he hadn’t been there. He remembers it, of course, but I remember details that he has lost. Together, we relive the day and grin at the memories. Maybe it’s a chick thing. Naturally I remember every detail of my wedding day. Okay, the reception is a little fuzzy. I do likeah the champagne. I remember coming out of the bathroom and seeing myself in the full length closet mirror and thinking, “I look so happy! I’m glowing! I look like a BRIDE.” I almost didn’t recognize myself. Odie remembers worrying that the guests were having fun.

And the nostalgia fun continues all week. Today, February 12, was our first full day on our own. Our honeymoon house had a hot tub recessed in the deck right off of our master bedroom, so we started every day (and finished every day) with a soak. The idea of soaking in a hot tub is so appealing to me right now, being pregnant and therefore forbidden. We went out to breakfast at our favorite breakfast spot in the area, then burned it off on a three-hour hike during which we paused to play a game of Frisbee.  We’re outdoorsy like that. When we got back to our car, we found a note on the windshield. Our back window was still painted with “Just Married,” although the rain was making it look like morning-after walk-of-shame make-up. The note said, “We were fortunate enough to see your beautiful wedding yesterday at Cathedral Rock. It reminded us of our special day 25 years ago. We wish you the same happiness we have had.” So much nicer than the notes you find that say, “Sorry I hit your car while backing out.”

I love that I have my memories of that week. Even when I was there in beautiful Sedona, I looked around and forced myself to remember details. I knew I would require them at other times in my life when I needed to meditate and feel happy and at peace. The red mud on my hiking boots, the cold champagne on my tongue while my body soaked in toasty, bubbly water, the feeling and weight of my new wedding ring, admiring the shiny new ring on my husband’s hand.

And, of course, all of the, ahem, stereotypical honeymoon activities. Censored here for your comfort.

Work is stressful. Motherhood is demanding. Pregnancy is uncomfortable. Taxes are due. But sitting here and reminiscing about that wonderful week is a free indulgence I can luxuriate in, even while I pick scrambled egg bits out of the crayon box.

Posted in Confessional Stories of my Past, Marriage | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments