This morning I made heart shaped pancakes for my family and served them on heart-shaped plates on top of a valentine table cloth. The girls are wearing hearts on their outfits and we got into sugar-sprinkled, heart-shaped cookies my mother-in-law sent, all on the heels of a very valentine's first birthday party for Buh-Stell. Then it dawned on me: Where's my heart-shaped thong and bottle of booze? This ain't Easter.
In England, Valentine's Day is a time for slutting it up with your significant other. It's a lovers' holiday and in true British dichotomy, they send tidy little envelopes containing raunchy, explicit cards to each other. Here in puritanical America, Valentines are what children trade with their classmates before stuffing their faces with sugar. Injustice!
I know, everyone hates Europe with their fizzy water, bad teeth and superior healthcare and lifestyle. But do these people not have a point? Valentine's Day is a time for putting the kids to bed early and focusing on Mommy. Wait. While we're at it, I've got to get my husband to stop calling me that.
All that's wrong with Americans is we have our holidays mixed up. Calendar jet lag, if you will. Halloween is our smut holiday. The day other parts of the world think about dead people is when Americans wear stripper pirate outfits (GUILTY!) and walk the streets half naked. As Dan Savage says, Halloween is "Straight Pride Day". Then we turned the anniversary of a central religious icon's death into a holiday about chocolate bunnies, moved Christmas to November and throw BBQs on Memorial Day. It's just curious.
I say we reclaim Valentine's Day as a naughty holiday between lovers. Right after I show you pictures of my Valentine-themed baby birthday party. Ah, why do my best points have to slap me in the face?
Also, don't forget to shave!