Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Would My Fist In Your Face Be a Better Hint?

Last time I received flowers on Valentine's Day? 2002.

Last time I received something else besides a card bought at the nearest grocery store a few minutes before dinner? 2002.

That's four years ago for any of you who are math impaired.

Having given birth to Sweetie Pie's offspring by being sliced open like a deer (or lawyer) that Dick Cheney just shot, I hinted very strongly that this Valentine's Day better be freaking different, since we have two paychecks now and I deserve to be treated like a Goddess since my body was able to grow a whole freaking other being. And I've had to put up with this other being's whininess on a pretty much full-time basis for 5 1/2 months now.

And yet, it's now 11 a.m. and Sweetie Pie has yet to acknowledge that it's even Valentine's Day. I didn't expect flowers first thing in the morning, but no one's come to the door yet. I haven't received chocolates, a singing telegram or a stripper, all of which I told Sweetie Pie just yesterday that they would all be acceptable things to send me on this commercial holiday.

There's a French Maid costume in the guest bedroom's dresser that may remain unused if something doesn't happen soon.

And just to add insult to injury, Baby Boy lasted 15 minutes in his "Mommy's Little Valentine" before throwing up all down the front and each one of the sleeves, ensuring that I would need to change him out of it before the smell of vomit became so putrid the dogs would leave the room. I'm trying to not take it personally, but it's kind of hard not to.

Love,

Catwoman.

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