When I reminisce about past Valentine’s Days, my mind inevitable wanders back to 2011.
Yes, there are many other memorable Valentine’s Day I could think about, including my engagement, but this particular year stands out most of all.
That’s because February 14, 2011 was the day before my daughter’s first open heart surgery. She was seven weeks old.
I could feel guilty.
I am out of town for the weekend for my annual girls’ trip with four of my best friends who are located around the country. I hopped on a plane to fly away, while my husband stays home with the kids. I will be gone for five days.
I could feel guilty that I am doing something for myself.
Sometimes you just gotta wear the tutu.
We often find ourselves on the outside looking in when it comes to our kids activities. We watch them play. We cheer them on. We capture the memories in photographs. But it isn’t always that we dive in with our children.
Maybe it’s because we are embarrassed or afraid to look silly in front of other adults. Maybe we are busy watching little siblings or multi-tasking a zillion different things. Maybe we just don’t get the opportunity.
I suck at playing.
I mean, I’m not good at it.
Pretend play scenarios hurt my brain.
I often put half-assed energy into it.
I intensely dislike coming up with dialogue between two Hot Wheels cars that are about to be attacked by a T-Rex.
I get bored of repeatedly having the bad guys break out of jail only to be captured again by our hero, Batman.