Wanna know a secret?
I used to *hate* Valentine's Day. I'll spare you the details, but the short of it is that in high school... oh high school... I was always the third wheel. Always. And on Valentine's Day, our school would sell roses to be delivered to the classrooms, from your secret - or maybe not so secret - admirer. And every year I would just hope and hope that someone would think of me. And every year I was disappointed. So for me, the day just became a reminder of what I wished I had, but very obviously did not.
In fact, I was 20 before I got my first true Valentine.
So I married him!
And then I had babies. Oh, is there any better definition of love than to be a mother? When my oldest was born, I said to my hubby, "I have never loved anything the way I love her." I was completely, utterly, overhwelmingly, wholly consumed by her.
Now *that's* a Valentine.
I read once that becoming a mother is like wearing your heart on the outside of your body. And it *is*. I couldn't imagine loving another soul as much as I loved this tiny little person.
And then I gave birth to her sister. Turns out I was wrong.
Now I adore Valentine's Day. I embrace fully the opportunity to shower my family in treats, affection and presents.
I wish I could go back in time and tell that girl that it will work out in the end. All those empty Valentine's Days are building up to the perfect ending. But that's adolescence, right?
How lucky I am to have *three* Valentines.
(PS.. don't forget my Giveaway!)