It's Over!

So yesterday I was pissing and moaning all day about the horridness of Valentine's Day; and okay, I agree that it is all a hype, blah blah, but the feelings it generated were very real at the time, and I was just totally feeling like shit. but you know, as the afternoon yesterday progressed, I started to feel better from some reason. I got off of work and went to pick up the little boys at day care, and they wer both just so lovely and sweet (which God knows is not always the case). In Owen's case, literally; they had had a party, so his fat little cheeks and little baby porno lips (he has got lips like Anglina Jolie, I just have to kiss him all of the time) were sweet, and I thought, okay, this is enough for me today. When we got home, the two teens were both gone, so I got the unexpected gift of having the little ones all to myself while they were actually in a good mood, and that was especially lovely as well. Sam is 8, so he is getting a little obnoxious in general, and Owen is not quite two-which is explanation enough. Often by time we get home, they are both tired and cranky and hungry, and chaos reigns. Not so last night.

My friend April, a fellow single mom, posted about how it is sometimes all worth it, and last night waso ne of those nights. My daughter called me from a friend's house, and despite my worries about HER reaction to V-Day (please god, don't let some asshole boy hurt her feelings), she ws totally fine. I very tentaviely asked her if she was diappointed that she didn't get anything, and sha said, "But I did! Kelsey got me a card and some candy, Addie got me this frog...." and I thought, okay, here is a 15 year old girl who has her shit together. Maybe my lessons about not needing a man to be happy have sunk in a little bit; I know she has far greater self-confidence than I did at her age, and seems so much more sure of the important things in life, and I have to believe that I had a little bit to do with that. Whatever the reasons, though, she is fine and strong, and I am proud.

With one thing and another, I didn't feel the need to cry myself to sleep last night. Instead, I got to sit with Sam and Owen and watch Veggie Tales; I got to talk to my daughter, and the oldest son called before bed (he was at a friend's) to tell me that he loves me. And then he called back to say I really do love you, mommy." He is 13; he hasn't called me mommy in ten years. I got to slather lotion all over Owen AND Sam, and we had time to read four books while snuggled on the couch. April is right; sometimes it IS all worth it. Instead of going to bed sad last night, I fell into sleep feeling grateful and loved.