When I was blogging for Current Mom, in order to optimize our site, I felt obliged to post something on all the major family-related holidays – Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukah, Halloween, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, etc. After a few years, this became a bit of a chore, for how many times could I write about how much fun it was to watch the kids on the block grow up in their Halloween costumes (and how I was a mom who reveled in the candy procurement, much to the anti-sugar constituency’s annoyance) or sigh about my personal December dilemma, dealing with memories of Christmas while raising my kids in a Jewish home?
But there is one holiday I will always enjoy exploiting. I love the red and pink hearts that appear in the deepest darkness of February – and not just because it arrives wrapped up in a pink bow and chocolate heart just in time for my birthday, which makes it a two-day holiday for me every year.
I simply love love. I love romantic love, platonic love, familial love, love of self, love of life. I am one great big mushball of love.
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