I was still in the same clothes I wore home from the hospital (a baby who never sleeps can do that to even a normally sane person), but when I realized it was Valentine’s Day and Gina was bringing a friend home from school in a few hours, I knew I had to do something. Neil had helped Gina write out her cards for the first-grade mailbox, but this year, we needed more. I left baby Jackie sleeping with Neil and praying no one would see me, headed off to the local drug store.

A benefit of waiting until the last minute to holiday shop is that everything is on sale. Candy conversation hearts? Half off. Boxes of chocolate? Half off. Red gummies? You guessed it – half off. I bought bags of everything and carted my treasures back home. I found left over Christmas gift sacks and filled them with treats. I quickly cut out red construction paper hearts and taped them up all over the kitchen. I found an old package of red Kool-Aid (who bought that?) in the cupboard and mixed it in an ancient plastic pitcher. I made two flower bouquets out of toilet paper like my Grammy taught me years ago. I worked fast, knowing the baby would wake up any minute, and by the time I was done, I had a scene fit for Martha Stewart’s magazine. Ok, that’s not true. I had a messy kitchen decorated with shreds of paper and toilet tissue around a pile of candy guaranteed to cause a stomachache.

My disappointment was heavy. How on earth was I going to be a good mom if I couldn’t even do a simple holiday? And what about being a good wife? I never even thought of getting – or making- a valentine for Neil. Right then I heard the baby waking up.  

“Neil, I really blew it with Valentine’s day,” I wined as I lumbered into the bedroom. “I should have made cupcakes and a special dinner and at least got cards for you and Gina.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he chuckled. “You just got home from the hospital. Take a rest and nurse Jackie while I go pick up Gina and Josie.”

By the time they got home, I had worked myself into a funk. I stayed perfectly still on the bed, pretending to be asleep, with the baby gently snoring in my arms. I felt Gina peek in at me, and heard Neil say, “Let Mom rest, she’s really tired” as he ushered the girls into the kitchen.

From my hiding spot, I heard giddy enthusiasm. “Look how pretty the kitchen looks!” Gina exclaimed.  
“And look at all this candy,” said awestruck Josie.
They sat at the counter emptying their treat bags, trading goodies, and looking through all the cards they got that day from the first -grade post office.

Neil came in to our room, sat beside me on the bed, and gave me the Valentine card he bought at the hospital gift shop. He kissed my cheek and said, “Love is what makes things special, Col, not perfection.”

So, remember those wise words when you think you aren’t “doing it right.” It’s probably only your own expectations that aren’t being met. People don’t need the perfect card, the perfect dinner, the perfect gift. They just need to know they are loved.