Love Day Lore: The Year I Forgot

Love Day Lore: The Year I Forgot

Valentine’s Day—Love Day in our house—arrived in a blur of snow, sick kids, and middle school chaos. It started with a gratitude prayer to my past self (last week Amber) for making a random Costco run to grab fancy heart-shaped macarons for classroom treats (thank you, bulk shopping gods) and a brutal temperature swing that made the roads a slick disaster.

Still, I managed a morning coffee date with friends, sipping chai that was absolute perfection while the window view mimicked a snow globe. That kind of soul-filling conversation is my real love language. An oil change would’ve been the responsible choice for my long-neglected car, but let’s be honest—I chose caffeine and connection over car maintenance. Poor Walt, my mechanic, would probably repossess my car if he knew how long I’ve put it off.

By evening, I was staring down the reality of two middle schoolers preparing to attend a dance, no plan for dinner and more nasty snow. Two separate trips into town would be my evening entertainment. My husband, conveniently out of town all week, missed this particular joy, leaving me to juggle it all solo. And in the midst of all the chaos, something unprecedented happened.

I forgot the Love Bug Table.

For the first time ever.

In our family, Love Day has always meant waking up to a table full of little surprises—tiny stuffed animals, treats, something that says, ‘Hey, I love you, and I see you.’ I never missed it. Not when I went into early labor with my fourth baby. Not through excruciating endometriosis. Not through the depths of depression.

But this morning, the table was bare.

Zero treats. No plan. Nothing.

I slathered some raspberry jam on toast, plated it with a heart-shaped macaron and some cottage cheese (for protein, obviously). And let me tell you, if phoning it in had a Hall of Fame, I would be inducted immediately.

My husband assured me the kids wouldn’t notice. His voice on the phone the night before was clear and kind, “It’ll be fine, they’ll be fine.”

He was wrong.

My daughter noticed. She noticed hard. I got the silent treatment.

And here’s the thing—teachable moments are rarely fun. In the car ride to school, we talked about being human. About how we all make mistakes. About how sometimes a mistake to one person is just life happening to another.

Maybe I forgot because my husband was gone. Maybe my mental bandwidth was maxed out. Or maybe, just maybe, the Lore of Love Day is evolving. My kids are outgrowing tiny stuffed animals and plastic trinkets. They’re making healthier food choices. We shop less at big box stores. Maybe this was the year the tradition shifted without me realizing it.

I made up for it with plants and snacks after school. And honestly? It all worked out. One kid was too sick for sugar anyway, and the others decided they were better off without the junk.

Maybe we’re creating a new Love Day Lore, and we don’t even know it yet.