The honest version:
I had “a plan.”
The plan did not plan back.
Last night I stood in my kitchen staring at a bag of candy hearts like it was going to tell me what to do next. It was late. The counter was a mess. Someone needed a water bottle and one last tuck in. Someone else “couldn’t sleep unless the blanket was folded a certain way.” And my brain was running that same annoying loop: You’re forgetting something.
I remembered.
Oh yes...Valentine’s stuff.
The cards.
The little “extras.”
The cute thing I saved on my phone weeks ago and fully believed I’d become a person who executes cute things on time.
Mid-February has a special talent: it turns normal parenting into a scoreboard. And I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for the Olympics.
Here’s what actually happened:
the kids didn’t ask for the “cute” thing.
They asked for five minutes with me.
They asked if we could do the “silly” candy hearts.
They asked if I’d read one more page.
They asked if I’d sit on the couch instead of “doing one more thing.”
So, we did the least impressive version of Valentine’s Week.
We laughed at the silly flavors.
We argued about whether the red ones taste better (they don’t, but okay).
We took a blurry selfie that will never see the light of day.
And I realized something that I need to relearn about every three days:
my kids don’t need a production... they need access to me.
If you’re in “just get through it” mode… try this:
- Pick one. One thing you’ll do this week that feels like “us.” (Movie night. Drive-thru cocoa. A library trip. Anything.)
- Lower the bar on purpose. Not because you don’t care because you do.
- Trade extras for calm. If something adds stress, it’s allowed to go.
- Say one specific sentence. “I love how you…” is better than any store-bought anything.
I’m not writing this as a motivational poster.
I’m writing it because I’m living it.
If you’re overwhelmed, you’re not behind,
you’re in the middle of a full life.
And if Valentine’s Week needs to be simple this year,
let it be simple.
