Valentine's Day

I hate to join the thousands of other pessimists throughout the nation but I must for just a moment. I have to say it. I am not a fan of Valentine's Day. I know this is somewhat strange because I am happily married with a husband that loves me and makes sure that I know it. I think my objections with the holiday stem from feelings that have stayed with me from growing up. I just remember the immense pressure that came with the holiday. Allow me to take you back to Monte Vista elementary with me to some of my earliest memories of this stressful holiday.
I remember every February our teacher would stand up and announce that we had to make a Valentine box and bring to school for the Valentine party. It was always a big deal to try to come up with an idea that hadn't been done before. My brother Chad would always come up with these fantastic boxes and I would be left at the table amid construction paper, pipe cleaner, and pom poms with not an idea in the world. My mom would eventually have pity on me and come to the rescue. I specifically remember making a box that looked like a gum ball machine. Incidentially the idea came from Chad because my mom had forced him to sit down and help me. We toiled over it and by the time it was done I was as proud as a grandma at a preschool program. I was so excited to show all my friends that I had finally come up with something worth putting their cute little cards in. When I got to school some idiot kid pushed me getting off the bus and my box smashed into the railing. It was all crumpled and although I tried to fix it, it was permanently scarred. Really not a big deal but to my elementary mind- the world had ended.
Then came the pressure about who got the card saying "Have a rockin' Valentines" versus the card that said "You rock my world!" I would spend hours in my room trying to decide what boys had to get the "gross" cards and pray that they did not read too far into the message. I couldn't stand the fact that they might think that I loved them. DISGUSTING! I wish I would have known that boys that age probably did not even realize that card was from me. The most attention they gave my card was long enough to rip off the sucker that was attached and throw the rest away. This was very UNLIKE me because I would absorb every message on every card and go to school the next day sure that every boy in class was in love with me. PRESSURE.
Fast forward to South Jordan Middle School and the introduction of candy grams and roses delivered to your home room class. This was a whole new set of stresses. The beginning of February the class officers would sell the silly love sentiments every lunch hour. I would always stress about if I should send one to my friend just in case she didn't get one. I didn't want her to feel bad. But then what about my other friend. And the other one. Where would I draw the line. By the end I was trying to convince my mom to take out a second mortgage on the home so I could make sure all of my friends felt loved. And then what about me? What it nobody sent me one? Or what if they did? And what if it was from and actual boy? And what if he actually liked me? AGHHHH. By the time the day came I would sit in home room class like I was sitting on a family of porcupines. I was so nervous that I would be the only loser that didn't get one. I was nervous that I would get one from a boy and then never be able to walk down the hall where his locker was again! PRESSURE!
Moving on to high school and the introduction of dating. And I thought the candy grams were pressure. They didn't touch this dating crap. At my school the Valentines dance was always girls choice. I hated this because I didn't like putting myself out there to be rejected. It did take the anxiety of not being asked away but I still would cringe at the thought of asking a boy and finding out the he had already been asked a few hours before. This was torture. It got a bit better when I had a boyfriend and it was just assumed that I would ask him. But that security could only last a time and so the rest of high school found me floundering every stinking February. PRESSURE!
And finally- the post high school years. I thought I would like these years because it afforded me the ability to hide out in my house and nobody would ever know that I spent Valentines eating my mom's sugar cookies and watching "The Commish" with my dad. But then I would get asked out. Great! Right? NO! When you are out of school and you are asked out on Valentines- it suddenly means something. Jake was on his mission and I was hoping him to return and still kind of like me so I was not really looking for a Valentine's date. I would struggle with the choice of going as to not make him feel bad or not go and make things awkward. What it really came down to was that it was going to be awakward no matter what road I took. PRESSURE!
So here I am. Married with three kids and I still have a distaste for Valentines day. Jake was cute and brought me a little gift and my all time favorite choclate covered cinnamon bears. The pressure returned when I realized that my little box of goodies that I got him did not measure up to his token of love to me.
As I reflect on this dreadful day, I have come to a few conclusions. First- I was far too concerned about what everybody thought about me when I was growing up. I needed to chill. Thank the heavens that I don't ever have to go back to those years. Second- Jake doesn't need a grand gift to know that I love him- a steak dinner will do the trick. And third- I look to Jake's dad for this. He always says that he doesn't need a special day to tell his wife he loves her and he doesn't need society telling him that he had to say it on a certain day. I agree. It means so much more when I am sitting at home and Jake calls just because he saw an ad on his computer that reminded him of me. It is nice when it comes "just because" and not "just because I was forced to."
To all you lovers out there- hope you had a great lover's day. I will continue to work on my adverse feelings toward the holiday and I will be better and telling Jake I love him the other 364 days of the year.

Guilt

I have felt guilty lately. Not because of anything that is going horribly wrong in my life. Actually, it is quite the opposite. I have felt guilty because of this little one.

He is just too patient and easy. I keep telling myself that Heavenly Father understands my struggles with Mason so he sent me an angel to restore my faith in boys. As many times as I repeat this in my head though, it doesn't change the pit in my stomach when I walk past Cade and he gives me a big grin and I rush on by.
Mason has started a little preschool with some of the kids in the neighborhood. It is nothing too formal but just a time for him to get out and interact with some other kids. This has been a blessing from heaven for me. I anxiously look forward to Mondays and Wednesdays because I know I will have a two hour block of time with Tylie in school and Mason at his preschool. Cade is often asleep during this time but there are times that he isn't. I lay him on the couch or in his swing and he patiently stares at the ceiling until I walk by. He will give me a big grin and then allow me to continue cleaning the house without making a peep. He doesn't demand much attention. The two other kids will burst through the door when my two hours are up and Cade will continue to wait patiently while they tell me about every person that sneezed and every knee that was scraped in the last two hours. By the time I finish making lunch, doing homework, and sweeping the floor I realize that Cade is still there in the same spot. I pick him up and play with him as long as I can until Mason spills apple juice all over the table and I am pulled away to clean up the sticky mess.
I feel like I am neglecting him in a way. I feel like I should be toting him around where ever I go but he allows me to put him down and so I do. I don't want him to have the third child syndrome. I don't want him to think he was just thrown onto the pile and forgotten. I want him to have just as much love as the other two. And he does- I just have less time to give it to him. I am not sure how to balance this. I do love the two hours we have together alone though. There is something very special when it is just him and I. He is my little sweetheart. I could do 10 kids if they were all like him. OK- I am getting carried away. But, he makes me love being a mom. He is a joy right now. As I am writing this I am picturing myself in the future. Sitting in my living room reading these words remembering that he was a good child one time. He will probably be up in his room screaming and kicking demanding a new kind of attention. It will be good for me to remember these times. After all- Mason was an incredibly mild baby until about a year. Then he flipped a switch on me. For now I will feel this guilt. I will try to internalize it for later. And I will enjoy having a wonderful baby. Chances are the next one will not be like this!