The Benevan Blasts Valentine's Day

Hi everyone. My name is Noel. ("Hi, Noel!") and I ... I have a confession. is driving me nuts. That's why I'm checking myself into VA—Valentine's Anonymous. 

I swear I'm not trying to take a curmudgeonly page from  I'm usually an upbeat sort of person, a live-and-let-live kind of girl. But.

It used to be, back in the days when I was young—that's right, the Dark Ages—kids just gave Valentine cards out at school. Quite a few of the heart-with-doily variety. Maybe someone's mom made some cookies. You had a shoebox that you'd covered with construction paper. Possibly you had a couple of boxes of conversation hearts that no one ate. All in all, a holiday, but more on the par of say, Arbor Day than Halloween. 

Fast forward to yesterday. Both my children came home from school with bags chock full of goodies. Now don't get me wrong, I appreciate all the thought and effort that went into these gifts. But since when did Valentine's Day become a Very Big Deal? Pencils, silly bands, Play-Doh—obviously I missed a memo somewhere. The kids love it, of course, and correspondingly I keep my slacker mom mutterings to myself. 

Somewhere in the nostalgic part of my brain though, I miss Valentines made with unevenly cut hearts and too much paste.  I wonder if my kids will even have any memories of those chalky tasting conversation hearts, or those waxy foil wrapped chocolate hearts from the bulk bin at Jewel.  It kind of makes me sad in a "this is all I have to worry about?" sort of way.

Maybe what I need is a good dose of half-priced chocolate. 

Next year, though? I have a glue gun, and I'm not afraid to use it.

Consider yourself warned.