February Love: {part one}

          I love celebrating holidays, even the ones that don’t have a whole lot of historical significance and essentially exist to boost the economy.  I mean, who thought up a match-making, arrow shooting, naked cherub?  

          Let’s just be honest.  It’s a little weird. And do I really expect my husband to purchase me a $60 bouquet of roses that will die within a week?  Or that $120 heart shaped diamond pendant from Kay Jewelers?  Give me a break! But somehow I still love even Valentine’s Day.  

          Holidays allow my family to create traditions and rituals that bind us together and foster a sense of belonging to something larger than ourselves.  They also serve to break up the sometimes monotonous flow of life, giving our children something to look forward to and anticipate with excitement.  I do, however, want the holidays we celebrate to have some meaning.  With the major holidays, this is fairly easy to do.  But Valentine’s Day is kind of a challenge, I’ve discovered.  My husband would probably say that sometimes I stretch things a little too far in order to extract significance out of a holiday that maybe doesn’t matter all that much.  Like this month’s attempt to have a perfect Valentine’s Day where all my boys would have spent a couple of hours crafting creative messages to each other, each card with an appropriate amount of hearts and the color pink.  And sparkles…that would have been nice.  Instead, I had to remind myself that no, I don’t in fact have daughters with natural proclivities toward expressing affection easily and innate desires to make things pretty.  I have boys.  They don’t have a single glitter-bone in their bodies, and would much prefer their own method of saying, “I love you.”  Like wrestling.  That apparently means the same thing as, “you are pretty cool and I love spending time with you.”  

          And so on February 14th, besides their valentine’s from me, Joseph was the only one to have a valentine to give every one.  Each of us received a ‘Y’ shaped piece of my scrap booking paper with a special message on the back.  Mine read, “Dear mom, I wish you never got set apart.  I love you.  Love Joseph.”  I know that sounds pretty cryptic to most, but I knew exactly what it meant.  (I was recently released as the primary chorister in our ward and received a new calling in the Relief Society.  Joseph was telling me he missed me.)  Heart melt<3.   But I felt so sad that the other boys hadn’t worked very hard to complete their cards, so after school I pushed them to spend some time at the craft table.  My efforts proved fruitless.  By the time their dad came to get them for President’s Day weekend, they were still not done.  Oh well, I thought.  I guess next year might work out better.  

          But a few days later, something happened.  I developed a blood clot in my right leg and had to spend quite a large part of our President’s Day in the hospital.  The boys were informed of this, and when they came home that night their faces were filled with looks of concern and love for their mama.  They were tender and kind, not just to me, but with each other.  The next day, Ashton gave all of us a valentine with a personal, thoughtful message to each one.  And that night, Talmage did the same.  It made me so happy.  

          Living with the male gender is a special experience for me.  I learn much, every day.  My little men have a difficult time showing affecting to each other, but they certainly feel it. And though they probably would not make valentine’s for each other if I didn’t persuade them, the fact that they do is indicative of the characteristics that make boys so special.  In addition to their great need to protect, solve, build, and conquer, they also have a tremendous desire to please.  They feel deeply, despite their inability to always express themselves naturally.  And I love that about them.  Their awkward attempts are endearing, and I just want to squeeze them.

Here’s a look at our special love day…

Talmage likes days like this because it means he can have a real breakfast before he leaves for school at 7:00 a.m. 

After “holiday days” like this one, I do wonder if it’s worth the swollen legs and throbbing headache at the end of the day.  In addition to preparing all my family’s special things I also had to give Ashton’s class party, which always seems to introduce a whole new level of fatigue to the day.  So by the time I finally was able to sleep and there was quite literally nothing left of me, I did spend a few moments contemplating whether or not my efforts will mean anything in the end.  Twenty years from now, will any of this matter? Will my kids even care?  The truth is, I don’t know.  But I do hope that even though they won’t remember that I prepared heart shaped french toast with strawberry syrup for breakfast for Valentine’s day in 2014, they will remember that their mom tried very hard to make holidays special for them.  And hopefully when they are in the midst of university or professional life and starting families of their own, they will feel a deep bond and sense of belonging to each other that will draw them together.  On their own.  Without mom’s prompting.  If that is the outcome, then I will take the migraines and aching back.  Happily:).