All I needed was a chin strap for a baseball helmet. I knew exactly where I would find it in Dick’s — so I marched right over to the baseball section with my kids trailing behind. I was less than five minutes into my quick shopping pit-stop when I heard my seven year old yell: “Mom!!!” I turned around to see what he was pointing at and this is how I found my youngest child:

It wasn’t an entirely successful day. I only found a couple things. So when I stopped at Kmart to grab a birthday present for a party and kill some time before school pick-up, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to walk through the fashion section.

But it did hurt. My eyes. Look… *gasp*… at what I found…

Of all that is holy and just, HOW did the Kmart fashion minds dream these pants up? Or, to be fair, think it was a good idea to bring them BACK. How did they ever say, “YES, this is a fanTASTIC look for our Spring line! We must manufacture many many of these and stock them in our stores! Up front! So no one will miss them when they walk in our doors!”

Are you looking closely? THE WAIST IS ELASTIC. The ankles are TAPERED! … And… STONE-WASH!!!

I am at a loss. And here I thought my shoulder-padded monstrosities from the late 90′s were horrid enough. I am looking for guidance here, people. I need to channel my inner Tim Gunn and get a clue. These? These elastic-wasited, stone-washed, taper-ankled pieces of awesomeness are NOT HELPING MY CAUSE.

Now I’m confused.

I mean maybe the throw back shoulder-pads aren’t so bad after all then IF THESE ARE OK…

Deep breaths.

This is Kmart. Not Bloomingdales. Even large retail chains, with millions spent on wooing their target audience into purchasing all varieties of mass produced treasures lovingly stamped out abroad can actually get things wrong.

Or. Maybe. (Brace yourself for a streak of brilliance now…) I am not their audience. Now there’s an idea.

Point taken.

Ok so it’s a little small but he won’t take it off. And I am totally fine with that too.

Oh and before you start Googling where to get one, I’m pretty sure it is hand made (I’ll find out it’s back story and update later). The sweatshirt is Hanes but the rest looks lovingly hand sewn.

I adore it. He adores it. Thank you, Barb.

Why?

Well, today is that special day when you announce to the whole wide world what your loved one did for you. It’s nothing new. I remember in college holding my breath as I walking into my dorm only to find rows and rows of delivered flowers on Valentine’s Day. What a cool thing to pick up a vase of roses (usually from my dad) and parade them down the hall.

Look at me! Someone gives a frig about ME! Ha HA!!!! I’m totally NOT a loser!

And then work. It was definitely something special to have a pile of roses and balloons and stuffed critters delivered to your office. Lots of ooohing. Lots of “Oh your husband is just SO wonderful. You are so DARN lucky!” And smugness. And positioning them so everyone walking by can see.

And now, while home most of the time and unable to flaunt my goods to peers any longer, Facebook does the job regardless. Pictures and status updates about this and that and what she got and where she is going and how she was surprised.

It’s nice. IT IS. No, I’m not posting this because I wish my husband would give me a singing bear. I just think it’s funny. Valentine’s Day is so silly, you know? And boastful. And “look at my fantabulous significant other!” and kind of all competitive and “I win for having the biggest and best and most flowery surprising thing!” And not really about the one you love at all.

While I don’t do a very good job at being private on here, I feel kind of private about Valentine’s Day.

NOW.

(Not always. I TOTALLY bought into the flaunt your flowers at work thing. I did. And I’m admitting it here, shamelessly.)

I just feel kind of silly yammering on about what STUFF my husband gets me as if the size of the stuffed bear he brings home is some proportional indication of how much loves me.

Of course it’s not. And of course most people know that too.

So what do I want on this silly hallmark holiday? I just want time. Which we’ll get. Thanks to two superheros riding in out of nowhere to offer free babysitting.

Anyhoo. Just thought I’d comment about the comedy of Valentine’s Day. Which I expect will get far more comedic as my husband and I don’t actually have reservations anywhere.

But we’re getting time. And time is far more glorious than any bundle of roses or jeweled something or squeaky toy that sings “Loving you is easy because you’re beautiful…”

I dedicate this to the one I love. HOPEFULLY he will proudly crank the volume so that everyone in his office hears and sighs and thinks he has the most thoughtful, loving wife in the history of wives.

Why of course I am and you’re welcome.

Happy Valentine’s Day Husband.

But my real excuse? A deadline. You know, the paying kind. Which I have to prioritize.

So. Give me a moment here. I’ll be back. Have lots to chat about. But in the meantime, I thought you might like this little intermission.

…mana-mana.

But I found a recent use for my old bunny hat the other day. It seems that my four year old buys into eating his carrots when he makes believes he’s a bunny. Maybe its a variety of little boy method acting. Whatever it is, it works.

And so here he is. Convincing himself that carrots are a fabulous idea. For a bunny.

Of course he then insisted I be a silly mommy and try on my old bunny hat. Wonderful. So I suppose I have to eat my carrots now too.