Sweethearts

I didn't even realize that Jared felt "left out" on Valentine's Day until I read his blog post. I decided to talk to him about it...face to face. We're pretty good at communicating with each other through the blog, kind of the same way other people text. But since we don't know how to text, nor do we have a text-ing plan, our techy communicating takes place right here.

So I located him in the house and I walked right up to him and said, "I didn't know you felt left out on Valentine's Day." When you're married, it's okay to be bold like that. Come to find out, he felt left out because I'm the one who usually does something thoughtful and he didn't reap the benefits of my thoughtfulness this year. (I was SO glad he didn't remember the year I totally expected thoughtfulness out of him and then I gave him the shaft. Except my guilty conscience forced me to remind him about it anyway).

I felt the need to explain my reason for the let's-forget-it's-Valentine's-Day request again. I was irritated by the whole holiday. I kept picturing Jared after work on Friday or early Saturday morning, standing in a long line of men at Wal-mart (because Jared does ALL of his shopping at Wal-mart, except for the Christmas when he bought me an exercise ball at Ross), checking out each others' purchases and smirking back and forth. What would those smirks mean anyway?

There could be quite the variety of smirking going on in such a situation...

Smirks of pride - "My wife is so fortunate I'm not chintzy like that guy" or "I'm the best husband because I set my Christmas bonus aside so I could splurge on this mammoth bouquet of over-priced roses."

Shameful smirks - "I should have been more thoughtful like the guy who is buying the teddy bear that's holding chocolates in an adorable bag all tied up with a foofie bow. He must have been planning that purchase for weeks. I'd go back and get the same thing, but I don't want to be a copy cat and I most certainly am not willing to risk losing my place in line. I'll just bow my head in shame and hope that no one notices."

Sneaky smirks - "I'm going to tell my wife I've been hiding this 3-foot card and mountain of chocolates in my office for weeks. heh heh heh."

Calculating smirks - "I know how to earn points with my lady. This notebook and heart-decorated pencil will be the icing on the cake after the romantic stay-at-home dinner I'm planning...she's going to love the grilled hot dogs and pretzels."

Insecure smirks - "Did I get the right thing? Am I spending enough money? Am I spending too much money? What budget category is this purchase going to come out of anyway?"

Smirks of disbelief - "I can't believe I got sucked into this crap again. Get me home and get this day over with already."

Whatever the meaning, I didn't want my husband being a part of it. I didn't want to be part of it. I didn't want to be the joke sitting at home, anxiously awaiting the big gift-giving moment, wondering if I would be getting flowers or chocolates...secretly hoping for both yet not daring to set my expectations too high. Who thought up this stupid holiday anyway? A carnation (because Jared would never buy a rose on Valentine's Day--he's way too practical to fall into that trap) or a heart-shaped teddy bear isn't going to make me feel any more loved than a buddy-like slap between the shoulder blades.

What about the time Jared found "the perfect" sea shell on the beach and gave it to me? What about the time he didn't complain when I had plans almost every night of the week, and I was off having fun while he battled several nighttime routines in a row all by himself? What about the time he supported me when I wanted to be in Utah with my family for a few days and he ended up having to take time off work because both the girls got sick while I was gone? What about the quick kisses I get each morning before he walks out the door?

I prefer the real-life stuff to the teddy bears.

So I was super surprised to read that it was hubby who felt left out. So of course I ran straight to Target (because I prefer Target over Wal-mart whenever possible), and I came home with the most thoughtful of all Valentine's Day gifts:


I didn't even smirk while I was standing in line. No one cared that I was buying chocolates a week after Valentine's Day. No one even cared that they only cost $1.75. No one in Target cared anyway.

Jared cared. He loved everything about it--the gesture, the chocolates, the price. No man of mine was going to feel left out when a box of chocolates could do the trick. And ironically enough, that very same day, without even knowing about my little thoughtful secret, Jared was being thoughtful too. He came home with this little goodie for me:


Some people might be confused by a gift like this. Some people might be annoyed or offended. Or scared. But not me. It's my belated Valentine's gift and I love it.

We're totally sweethearts.