Bee, Our Valentine

Dear Bee,

This morning, your father and I were trying to decide if we should celebrate Valentine’s Day this year, weighing the pros and cons distractedly as we watched you jump from the couch to the ottoman, to the couch again. We didn’t have a babysitter lined up and Valentine’s Day has never been our choice holiday to celebrate. Flowers and chocolate and balloons? Eh.

But this year, something feels different. This year, love feels like it just might be worthy of the biggest celebration yet…

We get it now. We understand the ebbs and flows, the good days and the bad – and how the bad never truly break us, but man, they come close. And how parenting you comes with so many hard moments, but moments that reveal a better understanding of the people we want to become: people who are loving and kind and gentle and patient.

You’re teaching us that love is a commitment and a choice – a choice to rise above the hard times and avocado stains and church tantrums, and how that choice is a really a no-brainer, because we’d choose it again and again and again, one hundred times over.

We’re learning that celebrating love is important, because it’s the good memories that we hang on to. It’s the smiles and the laughter and the singing, the wrestling on the couch early on a Sunday morning while the sun peeks just above the horizon, hair disheveled and hearts ablaze.

It’s those moments that carry us through the tougher ones, the ones that aren’t so celebratory – where we throw words like daggers and stand silent as mountains, refusing to see the happy in the hard.

Your father and I decided against a traditional Valentine’s Day celebration in lieu of a night in, just the three of us. There won’t be chocolates or flowers or balloons, but there will be crayons and strawberries and love. Totally, utterly and completely irrational love – the kind that only a toddler can offer.

The kind that’s worth celebrating.

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