HEART DAY

The mr. and I made a joint decision a couple of weeks ago: no Valentine's Day gifts. I usually try to be that super cute wife. You know. The one that goes all out. Scavenger hunt. Dinner from scratch. Homemade dessert. Surprise gift. But I have to be honest... after four kids, I am kind of tired of topping myself every other holiday. So I called a v-day pass. The mr. agreed. He is not a fan of trying to make each Valentine's Day more spectacular than the last. Which I may or may not demand. It was agreed. No gifts. None. Moving on. The Monday before v-day, I am in tears by the time the mr. comes home from work. Miserable day. Just awful. So he says, "I was going to wait to surprise you, but you need it now. I have a four day weekend coming up. I took Friday off of work so you can go to the spa to get a massage. And I already arranged for a baby sitter for Saturday so we can go out on a date. Happy Valentine's Day". Shut up. I cried. Fast forward to Valentine's Day. I see everyone receiving lavish gifts via Facebook and Instagram. I possibly get ridiculously jealous of a couple of people. I want breakfast in bed. And flowers. And a new camera. Mid-mope, I remember that the mr. and I had decided not to do gifts. And that he got me gifts anyway. He got me gifts. HE got ME gifts. What did I have for him? Nothing. More moping. While I was having a pity party, I come across an idea from a friend. Light bulb. I grab an extra pack of blank note cards that is stashed away in the desk and begin scribbling away. The mr. came home to find this: