Reflections from a reformed Valentine's Day hater: Happy dia de San Valentin!

Don't hate, celebrate!

"Valentine's Day sucks!"

"Valentine's Day is totally commercial and is so WHACK!"

"I don't do Valentine's Day, dude."

These are all versions of what you might have heard me say in the past. I was pretty much "anti" when it came to Valentine's Day--the day that I had branded, with a surly snarl, a "Hallmark holiday." That was before I met Harry.

Today was my first day off this whole month on wards. Our census has been at maximum capacity with a steady collection of sick, ever-evolving, more often than not mind-boggling patients. I was tired. . . real tired. Harry, who works every day as well, had every right to say, "Everybody is tired--suck it up!" But he didn't. He could have even told me stories about his days as an Army Ranger in Ranger School. But, again, he didn't. Instead, he handed me a lovely gift in the form of a delightful afternoon of peace and quiet. Yes, I said it. Peace y quiet! Pura vida! My good friend Tracey H. is the queen of randomly mixing English with Spanish--a habit I picked up from her (although did I fail to mention that she is actually fluent in Espanol?) Either way, I have adopted this practice which I find particularly helpful when something needs emphasis. And so. . back to the story. . . . Peace y silencio! Woo hoooo! Good ol' San Valentin!

The start of my afternoon of peace y quiet!

Quiet. No, not a new designer purse (which Harry is quite wonderful about springing on a sista), not a piece of jewelry (also not too shabby about), and no, not even the ever-generic spa day gift certificate (which, for the record, is a "generic" that I whole-heartedly welcome.) None of that. Instead, he gathered up our two rowdy boys, and took them out all day while I faceplanted like a ragdoll on our sunroom couch, entering and exiting all four stages of sleep repeatedly. Talk about romantic. For a full-time working mama slash Grady doctor, it gets no romantic-er. It was un-believable. Maravilloso, even!

Chicken soup for the soul

When Harry got home, he and the kids prepared (homemade!)chicken and dumplings for dinner, gave me a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and even chocolate-covered strawberries (totally my favorite.) Delicioso! I kind of started feeling bad, and so I asked Harry how did this day suddenly just become all about me? His answer? (Brace yourselves, ladies)

"It's always about you, baby. If you're happy, then I'm happy." Aaaah. Excellente!

It is officially official. I have turned in my Valentine hater card, thanks to my sweet, yet stoic husband. Even in my coke-bottle glasses, no makeup, in a post-Grady Hospital haze and with my ratty Nike sweatjacket, he manages to makes me feel like all of the Disney princesses rolled into one. And what's better? He's teaching our boys exactly how to do the same.

I know it's sappy, but I'm gonna say it again. . . .I'm just wild about Harry. He is the "sho" to my "nuff", the "holla" to my "back", and yes, the "bien" to my "gracias." Claro que si! :)

My funny valentines: Thing 1 and Thing 2- who says snotty noses aren't romantic?