Forgive me my sentimentality. I don’t usually make a big thing of Valentine’s Day. Perhaps it’s because Jordan and I were engaged 20 years ago this Valentine’s. Or perhaps it is because in an unfortunate irony, the UN weapons inspectors have selected this date to give their final report on weapons of mass destruction found in Iraq. Or is it the tragic loss of fourteen people this past weekend, seven who were school children from Calgary. For whatever reason, I find myself in an abnormally maudlin mood.

Jordan and I spent our second Valentine’s together, married and in the hospital; our oldest son, Paddy, was born on the 12th. I spent most of the day in a great depression and a feeling-sorry-for-myself funk, as other husbands roamed the halls, bringing their wives bouquets of flowers and chocolate treats.  Because we owned a restaurant, my husband had to be at work for what is probably one of the busiest days of the year. He did manage to slip away between sittings and brought me a delicious meal to help dry my tears. He had to first bribe the nursing station wardens with chocolate pecan pie so they would allow him into my room with his picnic basket of goodies and champagne. I can’t remember what we ate. I didn’t care. I was just happy to see him. I am sure that the meal was full of garlic and hot spices that a nursing child shouldn’t have. Perhaps this is why Paddy today can’t stomach spicy foods.

            After that year, Jordan and I rarely were able to celebrate Valentine’s Day on Valentine’s Day. Jordan was always working and I stayed at home with the kids. On a few occasions, I would get a sitter and go in to work to help with hostessing duties. Jordan and I would then sit down for a late supper together. But I never liked the high-anxiety of the evening. So many young couples seemed to place too much importance on the perfection of that night, and expectations were always unrealistic. It was the kind of evening when a steak cooked just a little too well could bring on an episode of uncontrollable sobbing. I was actually happier staying at home with the kids.

And so our Valentine’s Day celebration became combined with Paddy’s birthday on the 12th and dinner usually consisted of a noisy bunch of kids, Chuck E. Cheeses and a pink heart-shaped cake. Paddy finally had to tell me to lay off the cutesy cakes and decorations. He was 18 after all!

When we did get out of the restaurant business and into strictly catering, we made a few unsuccessful forays into some favourite spots for the night, but found that we were terribly disappointed by the experience. Restaurants were all too busy and we resented getting the bums’-rush from the waiters so that they could turn over their tables. No thanks; we’ll eat at home.

            I have always envied TV couples portrayed eating Chinese food in bed from Chinese food take-out containers; the cardboard pails that you see on episodes of Seinfeld and Friends. In my mind, this had to be the epitome of the perfect, romantic Valentine’s meal. I could see myself feeding Jordan a morsel of sweet-and-sour shrimp with an adeptly held chopstick, in between sips of champagne. The reality of trying this in your own home is that it is messy and smelly and the take-out containers we always seem to get here in Canada leak. Just another reminder that TV- land is Fantasyland; everything appears more glamorous there than here in the real world.

So, what would I really like to do for Valentine’s Day dinner? What would constitute the perfect evening? I would love to have a meal with my husband and two sons at home. Everyone would get involved in planning the dinner. We would shop for it together and prepare it together. The boys would bring their girlfriends and no one would be rushing because there was someplace else that they had to be, or a TV show that they just couldn’t miss. Our favourite CDs would be playing, candles lit and perhaps a fire burning. The boys wouldn’t be fighting with each other.  And we would talk about great stuff and laugh a lot and enjoy each other’s company.

After dinner, everyone would pitch in to clear without making a fuss. Then we would sit down to enjoy dessert and coffee and actually have conversations just as if we were best friends. And still no one would be chomping at the bit to get away, because there would be no other place that they would rather be than with their family.

            That’s all I want for Valentine’s Day. That; and world peace.  Talk about living in a fantasy world!