Then, we slowly started realizing that we should calm the eff down about some things. And, like, maybe not spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on each other for EVERY single event, like birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's Day, our anniversary ... the anniversary of our first date ... the anniversary of our first kiss ...
New love. I used to think there was nothing like it. Those butterflies in your stomach. The electricity. The giggles. Everything is new and special and momentous. Where we have landed now, however ... I like it. I mean, I know he loves me. He really loves me if he didn't leave me in my most monster of all horrible states of being: the pregnancy. If he made it through those hell-acious nine months with a Veronica who fluctuated between breathing fire, crying, spinning her head 180 degrees, and whining, then he is in it for the long haul. He gave me my daughter. He gave me the past 8 years, which have been some of the best of my life. I love him more than anything, and I don't need a huge fanfare and millions of dollars worth of presents and schmoopy cards and candy and flowers and jewelry (although ... sigh.) to prove it.
Valentine's Day is nice and all. I still like the idea of setting aside a day where everything is pink and red and you give people heart-shaped things and candy, and people are happy and talk about love. It's just not such a big deal anymore, and that is not sad at all. It is nice, because I know it means I am so damn happy with my husband that we don't have to spaz out on Valentine's Day -- all our days are happy and filled with red and pink and heart-shaped things.
The card I made for Jeremy a few years ago still sums up my level of devotion to him. Feel free to print it out this electronic version I whipped up and give it to your loved one(s).
Outside of card:
Inside of card:
Happy VD to all!