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Put it in the Pie Hole, Valentine.

I chose to be a hands-off, loosely-nearby supervisor of the Valentines boxes and cards this year.

As Jen Hatmaker wrote last night,

“Sending all my love to you mamas still slogging it out at the dining room table. I can’t explain why your kid can’t figure out how to spell ‘Christopher’ after four mess ups or why there are 28 kids in her class that all need a Valentine. I’m sorry for your hard times.”

Seriously. It’s just a lot to oversee.

Besides, I had this to make.

That’s right. Even a blind squirrel can navigate Pinterest now and then.

Tucker “voluntold” me for this project. My kids are in this place of volunteering to contribute the most expensive items to their collective communities. Tuck is on the Valentine’s committee for his class (kudos to the sixth grade teacher who realizes kids are old enough to plan and execute their own parties), and he signed us up to bring fresh fruit and water bottles for the sixth grade.

“What are the other kids bringing?”

“Paper plates.”

Tyler is participating in an Invention Convention, and he signed up his parents to provide all the Home Depot materials for the Springy-Bouncy shoes they’re inventing.

“What are the other kids donating?”

“The poster.”

Well, then. Of course. Apparently we are made of fresh-fruit-money and springy-shoes-resources.

We were heading out the door this morning when I took a look at their Valentine boxes There was a lot of duct tape involved. One box is wrapped in blue, and there is a mouth-shaped hole cut out of the top of it. In bold letters, he wrote, “Put it in my Pie Hole.”


And the thing is? I’m fine with it. Whatever. It’s done. I can’t care about everything.

Then the fruit bouquet spilled on the front porch. Which I think I may have silently known would happen, which is why we have a picture of it at all. I needed proof for myself that at one point in this Valentines Week, I made this and called it good. Now there are a few wayward strawberry marshmallows out for the winter squirrels to steal and stow away.

I fell into bed last night, all prepped out from Valentines, but Peter said he wanted to stay up a little longer to watch Shaun White win again. (Which, wasn’t that one of the most golden moments in Olympic history? Poor guy just could not stop crying. When he fell into his mother’s arms, I nearly cried with them.) Anyway, then I heard the garage door. But I was in the place of half-slumber, and it only half-registered.

Turns out, I learned this morning that Captain LoveBug was on his way out to get a Valentine for his Valentine – just before midnight on the Eve of Cupid’s Day.

He told me, “Babe, I’ll tell you this – I wasn’t the only one. The whole parking lot was empty except for ten cars, and all ten of those cars belonged to panicked guys in the card aisle. There was a sense of camaraderie between all of us who had waited too long, but it paled in comparison to the sense of competition. There were only five wife cards left, and nobody was going home without one. I mean, honey, I would have gotten you a dozen roses, but they all looked horrible. You don’t know the war zone of the grocery store the night before Valentine’s Day. Six will have to do. Happy Valentine’s Day. Oh, and all those wives better celebrate those men today. It doesn’t matter when they got the card – they got her one. They won the battle in the eleventh hour.”

Touche. And I have to say, of all the cards remaining, he picked a good one. Gold glitter, swirling letters, and the words “lucky” and “incredible.” He says he had to elbow a few competitors to land that one. I’m not sure if he had any human pheromones on, but I felt a great wave of attraction when he said that!

To finish off the greatness of Our Valentine’s Day, I give you this multi-step victory.

Because if this isn’t the day to use the heart-shaped springform pan from the first wedding, then I honestly don’t know when you’re supposed to pull out that bad boy.

Happy Valentine’s Day, you guys. Go ahead and put it in the Pie Hole.

Tricia Lott Williford

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  1. My husband couldn’t care less about any blog or article that I read/love, but I read him the pie hole part and he got a good laugh out of it. The look on his face was one of respect for your son’s humor. I can tell he hopes our ornery two-year-old will grow up to do similar shenanigans. 🙂

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