An Incurable Case of School Valentine’s Blues

One more thing for the moms to do

Oh goody! It’s almost Valentine’s Day at school! Dust off your creativity caps mamas (always the mamas, never the dadas) and fill your Xanax prescriptions! You get to spend your tiny shred of free time and your money buying 40+ crappy Valentine’s tchotchkes that your kids will inevitably despise and feel too embarrassed to give.

It’s important to know that everything comes in packs of 24, so if you are the unlucky SOB whose kid has 25 in a class, you’re going to have a lot of leftover garbage that your kids will form an unhealthy emotional attachment to and will not let you pitch.

It’s not your fault you waited until the day before and got the picked-over remains that include miniature Barbie hats for your two sons to give out. Well yes, it’s entirely your fault — but that’s not the point. The point is it’s annoying.

You get to sit with your sweet cherubs and force them to scribble the names of their classmates while they cry, complain, swear, tell you how stupid Valentine’s Day is and ultimately try to run away. You will be doing all of these things as well.

You should probably invest in that magnum of Kirkland chardonnay for this one.

Unless you have girls. Then you can just sit back, pop open that chardonnay and watch them create museum-worthy masterpieces with their brand new calligraphy set that they are automatically experts at.

The rest of us boy moms will be curled up in the fetal position cursing that bastard St. Valentine — whoever the hell he was. Probably some pedophile from the olden days because how else do you explain that creepy sidekick, cupid.

Never mind that we just ran around like lunatics trying to get Christmas/other winter holiday things put away. Never mind that my husband and I don’t even celebrate Valentine’s Day.

Never mind that it sneaks up on us every single year, leaving us feeling ridiculously inadequate for not going out on a Wednesday night to pay quadruple the normal price for a chewy steak. Nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like high-fiving each other over a lukewarm Heineken.

You can have your $200 chewy steaks and calligraphied masterpieces.

I’ll be ransacking my kids’ Valentine’s haul they bring home, only to suffer from extreme disappointment when I realize it was a sugar-free celebration.

The fuck are we doing people?

Cupid dust off your bow, we’ve got some work to do.