Let’s get mushy, it’s Valentine’s Day. There are a lot of things that I love and I’d like to use this public platform to declare my undying affection for them.
My dearest Secret Candy Stash,
I love you with a passion that can only be found in dollar bin romance novels. You sustain me through the endless days of fighting children and looming deadlines. I bribe myself with your chocolaty goodness to finish that project I’m working on. You keep me working when I think I can’t carry on. You have never let me down and have remained hidden from the grubby, prying hands of toddlers and preschoolers. I shall never betray our secret rendezvous location and I await our next meeting with hungry anticipation.
To my favorite TV show AFV,
I know you’re old — 30 is elderly in TV years — but I’ve never stopped loving you. I have faithfully watched through host changes, set remodels and graphics updates, and that cheesy song that reminds me of watching with my family when I was a child. You’ve been there for me every Sunday night, only taking a break for major sporting events and award shows. What I love best is that even though you try to stay current, you are the same at the core: a show with repetitive face-plants and groin hits. I cannot tell you how happy you make me. Every week, you bring me to tears with your montages of misfortune. AFV, you complete me.
Dear soft, cozy leggings,
How did I live so long without you?!?! In the dark ages of the 90s and 2000s, I didn’t know there was another option! How could I have worn non-stretch denim for most of my life? You rescued me at just the right time — after my children were born, you swooped in with your soft embrace of all my jiggly parts. You slide right on and go with anything. You can be dressed up for work, you are exercise gear, you can even be jammies. Don’t listen to what they say, leggings, you ARE pants. And I pledge my undying devotion to you as THE ONLY pants.
All my love, J
You are the rock to my roll, the peanut to my butter, the Justin to my *NSYNC. I am nothing without you. Your push-button doors and DVD player changed my life just when I thought I couldn’t carry on. You came onto the scene at a vulnerable time in my life, right after I learned my third baby (the surprise one) would be joining the family. You have always been what I needed when I needed it: your folding seats have accommodated kids, dogs, trash, furniture, the occasional “van picnic” and countless loads of groceries. Even though I haven’t always taken the best care of you (sorry about the dinged paint job and all that gross old food in every crevice), you still stand sentry in my garage, waiting to deliver us to all of the schools, practices, jobs and playdates we can handle. I can’t wait to see where we will go together next. I’ll love you until your wheels fall off.
To my soulmate, coffee,
You are beautiful and glorious no matter how you are dressed. You get me through the hard days. I would die without you. Never never leave me. I love you more than I can say.
With my undying affection, J
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Overheard at the salon: “I tried to consider how I’d want someone to treat my kid, so I didn’t use any cuss words when I chewed that kid out.”
Julie Holt is a wife, mother of three, hair stylist, runner, reader, writer, and is tired. Very tired. She works in Brentwood, lives in Spring Hill and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. You can follow Julie on Twitter @jh_lighter_side.