valentine’s day used to be a big deal round these parts. to me. not to anyone else round these parts but to the mommy part of me it was a MEGA deal...
somehow i thought that the valentines that i sent in with my kids totally made up my final mothering grade. that is was the FINAL EXAM. all the marbles. my entire sense of mommy-worth tied into one day, february 14th. like somehow the valentines that my children took to school were going to be the ultimate redemption of all those other mothering errors during the year (the lack of vegetables in lunches, the fact that not everyone bathed every day, the nights that i just didn’t have the energy or voice to read to everyone and sent them to bed with a story that went exactly like this “once upon a time three children went to bed. the end”, etc, etc etc...). those valentines were extravagant. they were works of art. they were intricate. masterful. worthy of worship. asking for awe. certain for salvation...
but most of all they were salty tasting from my tears. “hey kids, enjoy eating your treats... you are eating my tears”.
it would begin with me finding “the perfect valentine” in family fun magazine. of course, i would choose a different “perfect” one for each child. three children. three different masterpieces to create. i would procure the necessary items from michaels. early of course... what kind of mother shops late for valentines day? and i would “try” to get the kids involved. but these valentines needed a skill level far beyond any elementary school child. these valentines needed 26 martha stewarts all working for three days to complete them at the level they needed to be at for them to be deemed “marshall valentine worthy”. so valentines eve was a veritable marathon of crafting. an emotional frenzied ritual that involved candy, hot glue gun incidents, miles of ribbon, packages of sticky dots, more candy, reams of construction paper (acid free of course) and a mental breakdown around 4 am because i just couldn’t get 25 “fun sized” hershey bars perfectly formed into robots.
this year was my last year of valentines for a class. i have eased up since the early years and learned to go with my strengths. which include a camera and a printer. no more glue gun injuries around here.
which by the way, if i ever commit a crime NO one will EVER figure out it was me because i don’t think i actually have fingerprints anymore. the glue gun has burned off all of my fingertips. thank you valentine’s day.
these are my last valentines. for rosie. we stole the idea from this website... they were easy. no one’s fingerprints were burned off and they took 5 minutes to make. whew. i just hope my mothering grade doesn’t take a dive with this one.
and speaking of “bad late mothering”, i bought the lollipops for rosie’s valentines last night. there were no lollipops left at walgreens. but adam remembered that they had those BIG gourmet pops at staples. no craft store involvement at all. it is a new day people. a new day...
but here are a couple of the valentines that we have attempted to make in the past. and by “we” i mean ME. and by “attempted” i mean i was up until 2 a.m. with a glue gun. and by “past” i mean that i finally got over that...
these are just a few of the ones that we have sent out into the valentine boxes of the world. i can still taste the salty sting of tears when i look at some of those (the hershey bar cards were especially tricky). and some of them make my fingertips feel all tingly from the repressed pain of glue gun injuries...
