Ode to a Cheesy Valentine's Day

Before we had our daughter, my husband and I never celebrated Valentine's Day. We refused to overpay for a hideous pink carnation bouquet or an inflated prix-fixe dinner. ($150 for a plate of pasta and some lettuce? Yeah, right!) Instead, my husband and I spent every February 14 in front of the TV eating leftovers, smug in the knowledge that we were too smart to fall for a made-up holiday created by marketing whizzes to sell cards and candy.

But now that I'm a mom and my romantic life, on a scale of 1 to 10, falls somewhere below a negative 20, I long for those potentially romantic days that we carelessly squandered. You see, my husband and I have done a baaaad job at keeping romance alive. But who can blame us? With all the sleepless nights, our jobs, the endless piles of laundry, the cooking, the cleaning, the chauffeuring here and there, we can't seem to find the time or energy for "us." I can't remember the last time my husband brought me flowers for no reason or the last time I tossed on a little sexy somethin'. We are totally lame in the love department.

So this year I'd like to make an effort to embrace Valentine's Day and celebrate the heck out of it. If we can't get the romance going for one single day—a day when we have the relentless force of zillion-dollar marketing budgets behind us practically screaming "DO IT"—then I give up!

So bring on the heart-hugging teddy bears, the overpriced roses and the lacey boxes of bad chocolate. I may even squeeze my post-baby body into a negligee. This year, I want to celebrate Valentine's Day like never before. Got that, baby? (I'm talking to you, dear hubby, not the baby baby.)