Seriously?

Are all these bloggers serious about this Valentine's Day malarkey? Decorations in their houses, special desserts and elaborate dinners, coconut scented oils and balms, intricate hand made cards, over-use of the word "sweetheart," nudges and winks and smiley faces . . . I mean, really? Is this for real, or another stunt to maintain that charmed life image that seems to prevail in the blogosphere these days?

Can I be honest for a moment? If I read the words "I married my best friend"on a blog just one more time, I might have to gag myself with my vintage heart-shaped cupcake pick.

Please don't think this blog comes from a place of bitterness about Valentines Day. I am not the biggest fan of the holiday, but it's not like I hate it or am anti or anything. This blog comes from a place of exhaustion. I am exhausted just reading all these blogs*. It makes me wonder, can't anybody just "be" anymore? Can't we go buy some Spongebob cards for our kids' class and go out to dinner on Valentine's Day? Why does it have to be a big production, each year getting more and more charming, each year's idea having to be more clever and unique than last year's, and each photo on the blog painstakingly staged to maximize adorableness?

What is all of this for? Because if it's for your "sweetheart" (just threw up in mouth), then why is it plastered all over a blog? Why not keep it a private affair, just between the two of you? It seems like this is for showing off. It seems like blogging in general is about showing off these days. It's not real anymore, just the The Real World isn't real anymore, either (see Chuck Klosterman). I guess that's fine and all. I guess these charmed life blogs are a legitimate genre. But I'm just saying that it exhausts me. Sometimes it inspires me, but mostly it exhausts me.

So, I just got through an intensely busy Christmas season, a rather depressing January, and now I am supposed to be making fancy cupcakes with expensive liners and creating custom stamps for my children's class cards? Honestly, just being forced to even think about these things beyond the usual night-before emergency run to Walgreens is extremely off-putting to me. It's right up there with being told I am supposed to be teaching my three-year-old to read. Really? Okay. I'll get right on that.





*Yes, I realize that I can just not read them. And I promise, I am trying. But sometimes I can't look away. You know how it is.