Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Today, Keaton will be having his Valentine exchange in his class. I'm one of those mother's....no, we're one of those parents who make homemade Valentine's with the kids. I've done this for the past three years for one simple reason: my mom did it with me. I have memories of so many cut-out hearts and doily butterflies and I want my kids to have those memories too. The first year we did this Collin kind of rolled his eyes at me. By year 3 he now rolls up his sleeves and digs in because 1) he knows an eye roll won't sway me and 2) he sees how happy it makes the boys.
In the past few days I've seen so many posts online about those over-achiever mothers, the ones with the homemade Valentine's. Here's the thing, this isn't about you. I'm not trying to one-up you as a mother and my kids sure as hell aren't trying to one-up your kids (they don't even know what that is!) This is about us. This is about the four of us sitting at the table (usually while Nolan naps) cutting and gluing and sticking and stapling. This is about us working together and having fun. Of course, it's not ALL fun, there's also a lot of, Careful with that! and This line! This line here! and of course there was the time that Hutt spilled an entire bowl of popcorn all over the floor - but for the most part, it was fun. Our Valentine's this year took several sittings to complete and on more than one occasion I gave the boys the option of doing x or working on Valentine's. They always chose Valentine's. And not once during all of those days, not once!, did I wonder if the other mothers would bring homemade Valentine's to Keaton's class. Not once! Because this isn't about you. It's about us.
I got up early because I have a deal that needs to get done today and the instant I saw the box of Keaton's Valentine's sitting on the dining room table my stomach flipped. I suddenly realized, I'm nervous to bring them into his class. Will the other mothers judge me? Will they scoff at his over-achieving, homemade Valentine's? Honestly, I was getting so worked up about it I kind of wanted to puke. But then I decided, no, screw that, this isn't about you. This is about us.