I’m a romance writer, which means I would be remiss if I ignored Valentine’s Day.
Right?
I have to be completely, straight-up honest. Hubby and I don’t really get into Valentine’s Day. We don’t do cards or chocolate or cute little teddy bears. It’s not because we’re not romantic people. It’s more because we’re not holiday people.
Before anyone gasps in shock and horror, let me assure you.
We enjoy holidays. We really do.
I’m just saying, there are two types of people in this world.
There are those who go balls to the wall with decorations and festive hats and holiday traditions. Like my aunt Marlene, who has earrings and sweaters and funny head apparel for every holiday known to man. Reindeer antlers and glittery Fourth of July top hats and fuzzy black cat ears.
Then there are those like me and the hubs. Sometimes we watch fireworks on the Fourth of July. We hardly ever stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve. We don’t hand out candy on Halloween because we’re too lazy to keep going to the door every other minute. And we don’t exchange cards on Valentine’s Day.
I will admit though. Our son had a Valentine’s Day party at preschool and everyone exchanged cards. It was incredibly cute watching Brogan choose the Valentine’s he wanted to give his little friends. He picked dinosaurs. When I got them out, he kept trying to play Memory with them.
But I digress.
The point of this post is to talk about Valentine’s Day.
And although I just admitted I don’t get into the holiday that much, I do have one Valentine’s Day in particular that I will always, always remember.
Four years ago. New York City.
Hubby and I decided to go for a long weekend.
On the last night, I had a dream that I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I woke up in our hotel, The Wellington (sounds fancy, doesn’t it?), and was super bummed. I wanted to be pregnant. So I decided to take a pregnancy test.
And guess what? It was positive!
Four years ago, I found out I was pregnant on Valentine’s Day in New York City with my husband. For the rest of the trip, we joked that if we had a boy, we should name him Wellington. We could call him Wells for short. It didn’t stick.
By far, my favorite Valentine’s Day ever.
Let’s Talk: What do you think about Valentine’s Day? Tell me about your favorite Valentine’s Day memory.
*photo by tashalynn0708
What say you?