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Valentine’s Day has got to be the most unbearable holiday out there. This has been my stance since elementary school, long before I realized that as a mother, I’d have to wake up early, whip up a love-themed breakfast for my kids, and ensure all their classmates received special treats and playful messages from “us” too. Just picture me, completely unamused.
My disdain for Valentine’s Day started back when I was a 10-year-old tomboy with a mullet and zero romantic interest. I glanced at the love notes and those chalky heart candies and thought… nope, I’m out. There’s no way I’m handing out cards to the same losers who never even considered asking me to couple skate at the roller rink.
Even when I did eventually have a crush reciprocate, it didn’t change my feelings. During my senior year of high school, I wore a black armband on Valentine’s Day, despite no one being dead, while I had a perfectly nice boyfriend who wasn’t a rebellious grump like me. But, I did accidentally wear a pink polo shirt underneath the armband, proving I was a pretty terrible girlfriend and a bit of an idiot. That minor protest didn’t change my decision to boycott the day.
College didn’t sway me either. One Valentine’s Day, I dissected a shark and gifted my boyfriend the heart in a glass vial filled with formalin solution. He kept it in his car until the embalming fluid eventually spilled in the cup holder. I ended up becoming a marine biologist, and while my analytical mind is useful in many ways, it struggles with overly sentimental concepts.
As an adult, the farce of Valentine’s Day makes even less sense. First of all, February isn’t exactly a hot month. It’s freezing—I don’t want to take my clothes off in the cold. Plus, I’m at my least attractive: pale, hairy-legged, and perpetually bundled in a massive sweatshirt and leggings. The pressure for intimacy on this arbitrary day feels ridiculous. So, we just have to get intimate today because some Cupid in diapers suggested it?
I also can’t stand the clichés that come with Valentine’s Day. A quick online search reveals the holiday’s more risqué origins—a pagan fertility festival with matchmaking games. You’d toss your name into a jar and leave with someone else’s chariot, like an ancient key party. Somehow, that evolved into the saccharine version of romance we see today. The red hearts and lacey cards remind me of a time when merely glimpsing an ankle could cause a scandal.
As a modern woman, I have no use for this absurdity. Your chances of impressing me on Valentine’s Day won’t be boosted by a teddy bear and some stale drugstore chocolates. We need to shake things up and normalize different ways to show affection. This isn’t the fifth grade; sweets aren’t going to wow me. How about, I don’t know, a kimchi grilled cheese and a vibrator? Was there a shortage of those?
What really grinds my gears about Valentine’s Day is the additional pressure put on mothers. Mid-February is not long after Christmas when… we just did a ton of stuff. I can’t be expected to light up my family’s lives twice in 45 days. Ironically, going above and beyond with things nobody asked me to do is my forte. I’m all in on raising a couple of food enthusiasts, so elaborate meals are common around here. Homemade bao buns with pork braised in fermented chili paste, pickled shallots with Sichuan peppercorn, julienned cucumber with a splash of rice vinegar, and roasted crushed peanuts—sure, whatever you want, my dear children.
But heart-shaped pancakes? Ugh, that sounds exhausting. And I absolutely refuse to create 25 treat bags and love notes for every kid in their classes. I’ve never done it, and I never will. The cultural expectation that childhood be filled with treats and special events is already overwhelming.
If anyone starts pushing for Cupid traps, I’m going to flip a table. It’s perfectly fine if our deep love for our kids doesn’t include the “mandatory” mommy projects society expects. A two-hour spaghetti Bolognese on any day other than February 14 is still a Valentine too.
Jamie Collins is a marine biologist and an awful baker. She lives with her husband and their daughter and son in New Bedford, Massachusetts. You can find her on Instagram @whalingcitycottage.
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In summary, Valentine’s Day is a holiday that many dread, especially when it comes to the added expectations placed on mothers. The pressure to create special moments and gifts often feels overwhelming, making it hard to enjoy the day. Instead of traditional gifts, perhaps we should embrace more unique expressions of love, allowing parents to opt-out of the standard clichés.
Keyphrase: Valentine’s Day Parenting
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