I hate you, February

February is the month of love. At least, for everyone else. At my house, it is the month of hatred, loathing and cooties.

My boys don't like girls. All females (excluding myself) are on their black list. Girls are petty, obnoxious, and smell funny. While I heartily support them and hope they keep it up well into their teens (a mom can hope!), I wondered where they got it from. I am a nice lady (*cough* sort of) and I am well respected by The Hubsters and those in my acquaintance. The Hubsters is a romancing kind of man and we kiss to a chorus of "EEWWWW! Gross!" regularly. But, there is an outstanding thorn in my side and it has everything to do with February.

The Hubsters HATES Valentines day. Hates, loathes, angers, annoys... I could go on for a long time enumerating the descriptive words surrounding the holiday. Because of this hatred, I get a frosty peck on the cheek on February 14th and nothing else. ZILCH! No flowers, no jewelry, no chocolate, nada.

This year, I was a gutsy gal and sent him a very blunt "I want this or else" type of email. No hints at my house when it comes to Valentines Day. I want something sparkly and I figure since I am 1300 miles away, alone and bitter about it (heck, my lips are losing their kissability!) I figured I was deserving. I sent this picture and a note saying that I want what I want and please get it for me.

















What did I get in reply?

No.

So now, I hate Valentines Day. I have two shoe boxes to decorate with my boys and cards to stuff with candy and fill with hatefully mushy messages. I get to send off my grumpy sons to school with said loathsome boxes and then help them eat all the candy they bring home. THEN... I get to be alone on Valentines Day. How awesome is that? I am going to end up throwing popcorn at the TV while I watch a sappy Jane Austin flick in my dark empty house. How fun is that?

I hear February is one day longer this year. Sadists.