C is somewhat…uneven…in his gift-giving. Sometimes he completely knocks it out of the park, getting me something that is a total surprise, but exactly what I want and need at that given time (The Birthday of the Laptop comes time mind), and then there are…the other times (The Christmas of the Mop will forever live in infamy). Valentine's Day is not one of his strong points, and to be honest, I don't really care about it, that much.
So this year, I wasn't very surprised, and really not all that put out when he came home of Valentine's Day and, seeing the heart-shaped chocolate cake I had just pulled out of the oven, started squirming and mumbling in this certain way he has.
"Why are you whining?" I said.
"Because I forgot Valentine's Day," he said.
Which wasn't entirely true, since we'd gone out on a Valentine's date Saturday night—to a murder mystery dinner theater—and even though it had been my idea, and I'd had to prod him to get the tickets, he did pay for the tickets, and he did drive there and back, an hour each way, in a snowstorm. And I hadn't really done much for Valentine's Day—a nice, romantic dinner for five, a heart-shaped cake, a bit of chocolate for everyone, and a card, about which there's much disagreement as to whether it looks like a heart or not.
So I wasn't even all that mad. Mildly miffed you might say. And the next day, C came home with a card, a bit of chocolate, and actual flowers from the store (which I'm pretty sure he's never done before).
As I was tucking him in bed, E also gave me a belated valentine: this drawing he made of a cat couple.
And, as it turns out, the Valentine cards I sent out were all belated as well—even though I'd ordered them very early, I didn't get them in the mail before the blizzard (I'd had a vague thought that I might pick up some pretty stamps), and they didn't even get picked up from our mailbox until Valentine's Day. So we'll chalk this year up as the Year of the Belated Valentine, because really, isn't any day a good day to show someone you care?