Sugar Free Valentine’s Day

My favorite Valentine’s Day story happened a few years ago, when my youngest son was in the 3rd grade. The week before, we were shopping for Valentines to pass out to his class when he picked up a small heart-shaped box of chocolates with a smiley emoji on the front and said, “I want to get this for my girlfriend.”

I was already aware he had a “girlfriend.” In fact, the first time he announced he had joined this social construct was in Kindergarten. 

“Me and Sophia are in love,” he said at dinner one night. “And we are getting married.”

“You should probably think about that for another 15 years or so,” said my older son, who was nine at the time. “Just a suggestion.”

After the announcement, I burst into tears right there at the dinner table. I don’t know why. Grieving for the loss of my baby? Who knows. Moms are ridiculous sometimes.

So, when he told me he wanted to buy chocolates for his 3rd-grade girlfriend, we’d already been in this head space for a few years. By now, I was calm and collected. Also, I knew his “girlfriend” and her family and they were cool people. Down to earth. Solid humans. So it was all good. For the moment.

Two days before Valentine’s Day, my son’s friend rode the bus home with him for an after-school play date. His buddy – also a sensitive young man, which is why my son gravitated toward him – jumped off the bus first and said to me in a grave tone, “she broke up with him.”

When my boy appeared, he stepped down the bus steps in a slow, drawn way, like he could barely move. He’d been crushed by love. He looked up at me with his sad eyes and said, “can we eat her chocolates?”

Damn right you can.

After his buddy left, I sat my boy down for a talk. A good mom would have said something like, “you are young and there will be other great loves of your life. And if she doesn’t have the good taste to stay with you, then she doesn’t deserve you.”

But I am not that good mom.

What I said was, “regret, my darling, is the greatest revenge. And I promise you, she will regret it. They always do.”

The next day, the day before Valentine’s day, my boy got off the bus, smiling widely. “You were right,” he said. “Regret is the greatest revenge.”

She regretted it so quickly, in fact, that she met him as he got off the bus that morning at school. She told him she was sorry for everything and she wanted him back.

“So,” he said, “we have to go buy her some more chocolates.”

When we got married, my husband and I decided we would not be celebrating Valentine’s Day in the traditional way. Love was something that should be proclaimed and appreciated every day, we surmised, not just one day out of the year. Taking the pressure off made the day feel more relaxing. Instead of fighting the crowds at restaurants and spending money on expensive flowers and jewelry, we’d spend the night cooking for each other or watching rom-coms. 

We continued like that blissfully for years – until we had children. 

With children, the celebration is the whole point. Which is great when they are little. 

Then they start school, and you realize there’s this culture of expectation in America’s suburban elementary schools, where streamers and balloons and pink and red sugar-filled cupcakes and cookies are the norm. And stressed homeroom moms run around the classroom, setting things up and making sure it’s all perfect and memorable and epic.

So we took part, trying to walk the line of too much vs. not enough. We volunteered to work at the parties – trying to help those moms that were so stressed feel a little relief. We signed up to bring the tiny water bottles and made Valentines for classmates and helped run the games. My oldest son was never really into any of it, so we didn’t try to force it on him. My youngest son – the romantic – was into it. So we supported that too.

This year, like many kids, my boys are schooling from home. So, there will be no sugar-filled parties. This year, we can celebrate just as we want. And no one has to get stressed or meet any expectations.

And, since we are doing the NO SUGAR experiment, we will not be celebrating in the traditional candy-filled way. Instead, we got the boys some gifts – just some small things they had been wanting recently – to make it more fun.

And they each got a Lily’s chocolate bar made with Stevia, just to give the celebration that classic feel without all the blood sugar spikes. 

Like many celebrations, we also had a fun time in the kitchen, making some peanut butter banana pops and coconut bites. I even made them watch a rom-com. Which is a torture I’m sure they will appreciate for years to come.

Side note: My mom always makes the kids little baskets or bags of treats every holiday. She called to say she had made some for the kids this year for Valentine’s Day. These gift WILL have sugar in them. And I’m okay with that. It makes her happy to make these things for the kids, and it makes the kids happy to receive them. While we won’t be welcoming sugar back into our lives on a regular basis after this experiment is over, I don’t see the need to force anyone else to adhere to this rule.

Life is going to be full of sugar-filled treats. That’s just the culture we live in. So the choice is to 1) deny the treats and risk alienating people and creating some kind of psychological link between sugar and deprivation and misery for the kids or 2) go with the flow. Accept that there will be times when we will all eat sugar. And realize that a sustainable lifestyle will require some allowance for breathing room.

It’s freezing in Texas right now, so they won’t be getting these gifts until that is over and we can safely meet with Granny outside on a sunny day. But when they do, I look forward to the joy it brings us all.