February 9, 2018

A lot has changed in our house since our youngest left for college in the fall and we became empty-nesters. There’s no one to yell at to take out the garbage. No one to make sure dinner is ready for promptly at 6 p.m. and then have it consumed in 15 minutes after some sports practice. And now that it’s February, the only reason I know Valentine’s Day is coming up is I keep tripping over valentine’s candy at Wegmans.

This year, I am so excited to not celebrate Valentine’s Day. Not because I’m a curmudgeon about romance. Not at all. My husband knows that his main job in our marriage is to forever find ways to sweep me off my feet when I least expect it.  That, and change the lightbulbs in those hard to change places.

As I look back on it, though, my husband has never given into Valentine’s Day pressure. He knows me well enough to know I’d rather get a romantic card on any Tuesday than get it on a holiday that somebody who owns a large greeting card company decided was the required day to express his love.

This year I’m especially excited to not celebrate Valentine’s Day because I don’t have any kids in the house. Finally, I won’t have to buy the last-minute Valentine’s guilt presents. No guilt cards, teddy bears, cupcakes or candy.

Not having children in the house means I won’t have to put up with their last-minute Valentine’s Day needs for school. I don’t have to stay up helping them address those Scooby-Doo Cards for all their classmates and teachers. Or buy the crappiest candy to give out so I wouldn’t eat any of it (think: Sweet Hearts).   

The pressure of those elementary school Valentine’s Day was epic at the time. It was up to me to make sure each kid had a card for every kid in the class, on the team or in the after-school class. And it was up to me to deal with the ramifications if you forgot even one kid.

We once got a letter from a hurt child to my daughter, asking why she hadn’t been included in the V-day candy give-away. Turns out she had been included, but the flimsy card had just fallen on the floor. Darn you, Scooby-Doo.

I will say my kids learned a lot about empathy and kindness from that yearly ritual. But mostly, they just ate too much chocolate, and my son always got a rash from all the red dye.

And now that the kids are gone, every day is truly romantic. There’s no one to yell at to come down to dinner. No logistics to argue over or schoolwork to manage.  We manage our own work just fine. 

Romance comes each day when my husband empties the dishwasher, gets up with the dogs in the middle of the night and gets me the paper before he leaves in the morning. Oh, and when he fills my car up with gas. Such bliss. 

And my romantic gift in return is not yelling at him to wake up and go to bed when he falls asleep watching The Voice at 9 p.m. By that time, we’ve used up all our empty-nester words for the day, so there’s no need to wake the sleeping giant. This year in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I may even let him sleep on the floor for the whole night.

As first published in the Democrat and Chronicle and USA Today.