Call me a Valentine’s Day scrooge, but as soon as those singing monkeys and ‘Made in China’ plastic hearts started to appear on the shelves, I began to resent February 14th. Searching for the perfect card for my husband furthered my mood. The ‘let’s hop into bed’ cards are too racy, the sentimental ones too gushy, and the funny ones not funny. How many fart joke cards can I give my husband? Okay, well probably a lot but it’s just depressing to think that bodily gas is the best I can do in showing my love.
“We need to make our own cards,” I told my girls, after we read every card in the aisles at Target.
“No, Mommy. We always have to make our own cards.”
“Yeah, this one with Sponge Bob picking his nose is funny.”
I caved and spent more than my monthly chocolate budget on a stack of cards, with an overpriced singing one for my husband. Still feeling grumpy about the whole thing, I shoved the bag under my desk and checked my email.
Fortunately, there was an invite to a surprise party for my friend, Katherine Fugate, who wrote the movie “Valentine’s Day.” No relation, although we do look alike. We are both blonde, fair-skinned mommies with size 0 waists. Well not really that small, but it never hurts to put it out there.
Pretending to be an adult for one evening, I kidnapped my bus stop girlfriend, slapped on some make-up and headed up to Hollywood for an evening celebration. Did you know that there are people who actually put on high heels and go out to dinner alone on a Sunday night? I frankly felt in shock not to have someone whining for the kid’s menu or fighting over the seat next to Mommy.
The party room was filled with fabulous pink cupcakes, large and small. Not much can be wrong in the world when I am surrounded by frosting and chocolate cake. Katherine was completely stunned. Nothing like realizing your quiet dinner has become a party of fifty.
In the movie “Valentine’s Day,” Jessica Biel’s character throws a party for her girlfriends every year at an Indian restaurant. They come together and celebrate their lives, in love or not. As I sat with Katherine and friends, my hard shell cracked as a mushy feeling of love for my girlfriends filled my heart. I don’t know where I would be without them, but it would probably be somewhere with white strait jackets and little plastic cups of pills doled out twice a day.
In between my fifth and sixth cupcake, I asked Katherine if she actually likes Valentine’s Day. “Of course,” she said. “I still believe in love.”
I do, too. I did take back all those cards though. My girlfriend Gillian took a picture of us and made an adorable card. No fart jokes or cartoon character--just a “Made in USA” old chick and her lovely little chickadees.