What's the Valentine's Day Equivalent of Scrooge?

This is just wrong. And yet, so very right.

Ya'll know I got laid off. We po' up in this piece. Though not so broke I can't buy my kids a candy bar or my husband a $3.50 romantic greeting card (which, by the way, $3.50!? Anyone else think that's excessive for a piece of folded cardstock?).

On top of that, I'm tired, people. Never been so tired in my life. It's the kind of bone-weary fatigue that settles over you when you've only got enough food, money, gas and hope to get you to the end of the month. And then ... who knows?

But the exhaustion and empty wallet weren't going to stop me from celebrating Valentine's Day! I mean, we're not animals here.

So I girded up my loins (not sure what that means, actually, but I liked the imagery) and headed over to Walmart.

As I stood in the "Valentine" aisle - the same aisle that is outfitted for each specific holiday; the same aisle that displayed the pink and red hues of this month in early January; the same aisle that will be ready for Easter on February 15 - something in me rebelled.

I was innocently studying the Hershey's hearts and Candy-filled coffee cups with indecisiveness. Trying to narrow down what to get my loved ones. A princess Pez dispenser for AJ? A box of chocolates in the shape of Darth Vader's head for Griffin? A "Bigfoot" themed, beef-jerky filled Valentine for Scott?

"No," a voice within me whispered. So I shrugged and moved down the aisle, looking for different options.  

"No," the little voice said louder.

I blamed this niggling doubt on my reluctance to spend money on anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. And I'm sure that was part of it. But the bigger part was the thought that came next.

"THIS ISN'T LOVE!" my insides seemed to shout. "This will not prove or disprove your feelings for someone. The super-size candy heart option does not mean you love stronger. The flash and dazzle, pink bear basket does not mean you love more. The hoodie-footie pajamas don't solidify a shaky relationship -- in fact, those things are an abomination of nature."

Grawr!

"I know that," I muttered, earning a look from a nearby shopper.

"But do you?" The voice snapped back.

I looked down at my shopping cart, sprinkled with candies in cheap plastic. And I wondered. I didn't actually WANT to buy this stuff. Certainly couldn't afford it. And did my kids really need PROOF of my love?

Didn't dragging my butt out of bed every morning to make them breakfast prove it? Didn't the ballet lessons and chess lessons and swimming lessons prove it? Didn't the storytimes, the trips to the zoo, the vacations, the cuddles, hugs, kisses, songs, dancing, fighting, yelling, laughing, praying, playing and long-talks-about-nothing prove it?

Didn't the fact that I said "I LOVE YOU!" every single day prove it?

If I didn't present AJ with a Tinkerbell M&M dispenser on Thursday morning, would she, even for a moment, doubt my complete adoration?

Look! Matching faces!

If she did, then I was an utter failure as a mother.

So I left the cart and came home empty handed. And I sat my kids down and told them that people usually buy the people they love treats on Valentine's Day. But we couldn't really afford it this year and besides, they already knew I loved them, right?

They both assured me they did. My six year old and three year old, with serious, little faces, told me they didn't need any candy to know I loved them.

Because they passed this portion of the "life" test, I let them pick at the leftover Christmas candy. They went to bad happy.

And this morning, everyone climbed into my bed and we cuddled and watched "Ever After," while I gave out kisses and hugs - which were free, but in my opinion, vastly better quality than any gift I could've gotten from Walmart.


Does this mean I've had a grand awakening to the corrupt commercialism of this particular holiday? Does this mean I shall shut my door and close my blinds and hunker down on February 14, refusing my business to any restaurants or chocolatiers, lest I be mistaken for a supporter of St. Valentine?

Heck no. I love me some Reece's Hearts. We'll come back to those next year when I'm off this diet. And if we can afford it, I'll get the kids something, too.

But I won't be buying anything because I feel like I HAVE to. I'll be doing it because I WANT to.

And that's the difference.

Editor's note: You may be wondering where Scott fits into my no-Valentine Valentine's Day stance. Well, let's just say I know how we can celebrate the holiday for free. That's right, folks. He's getting the TV remote. All. Night. Long.