I’m pretty indifferent about Valentine’s Day.

I know there are a lot of people out there who really hate it with a vengeance and are so repulsed at the very mention of the occasion that you can actually see the skin on their face start to shrivel and peel away.

I don’t have that alien nuclear radiation effect. I just don’t really care much about it.

I’m not a romantic. Not by any stretch of the imagination. We usually don’t get presents for each other on Valentine’s and prefer to do dinner out the night before or after to avoid the crowds.

Two years ago I found out on Valentine’s that I was pregnant, so we did the whole dinner reservations thing and I bought J a pooper-scooper for the litter box to initiate the beginning of his 9 months of having sole litter box duty on account of my pregnancy.

See. Not a romantic.

But last night my parents offered to take LB for the night so we could have an evening out. I didn’t know what to do with that. I mean, it was VALENTINE’S DAY, oh dreaded Day of 5-Hour Restaurant Waiting Times and No Available Reservations.

I hate waiting at restaurants. HATE IT. Remember that alien nuclear radiation effect? Yeah, I get that about waiting.

But it was an opportunity for a NIGHT OUT - as in, just the two of us - that rare and sacred opportunity that I must hold to my bosom and pet and cherish, lest it disappear forever. That precious glimpse of our past lives, free of responsibility and diapers.

While we wouldn’t give up our current situation for anything, there’s a mystical and almost naughty quality about The Night Out - something that defies understanding makes it entirely irresistible.

Ergo, even I, the Reigning Supreme Hater of Restaurant Wait Times could not turn down The Night Out.

So we joined the rest of the world and went out to eat on Valentine’s Day.

J called a restaurant and was told the current wait time was only 15 minutes (gasp!). But by the time we packed up LB, took her to my parents, and made it over there, the wait time had become 2 hours.

TWO HOURS??? This was not a fancy, exclusive restaurant. This was a typical steak & potatoes place. Not even The Night Out could overcome the agony of spending that much time waiting for a table.

I told J I was NOT sitting there for 2 hours and we went home and watched Bones and American Idol.

Two hours later, we went back.

Zero wait time. Night Out. Texas Twist Margarita.

BLISS.

This weekend I started a phase of self-indulgence.

J watched LB on Saturday for 4 glorious hours so I could go shopping by myself (and he gave me some shopping money for no reason, so I didn’t even have to spend my own play money - SUWEET). I came home with a new haircut, new clothes, and a trial sized version of a new skin regiment that costs way too much and that I would never splurge for, except that my birthday is coming up next month so if I like it, other people can buy it for me. 

I like it.

To my surprise and relief, Button didn’t seem to care at all that my hair was shorter. A good thing, as part of me was afraid she wouldn’t know me without the extra 6 inches. Yesterday, I took the test one step further and colored it auburn - something I haven’t done in 2 years. Granted, auburn isn’t too far off my natural color, but she still knows her Mama, which makes me happy that she loves me for more than just my hair. I was beginning to wonder…

There’s something about the little things I get just for me that make me feel better about myself. Today I don’t feel nearly as fat, frumpy and past my prime as I did last week. This is important right now because 27 has always been a “marker” age in my mind - where I officially have to turn in my badge of youth and become an adult. I turn 27 on the 27th of next month.

So for now, I’m enjoying my self-indulgence and planning to set an appointment soon at a nearby spa to which I have a GC. Have any of you ever had a body wrap? I’m curious to know if they really work as well as I’ve heard as far as taking inches off the middle.

I’m also considering getting some of that reallyreally expensive MAC makeup to go with my new hair. Just for fun. And ’cause I can.

Well, I think I can. I’ll have to see how much is left in my “play money” account.

I’m writing this from the JFK Airport in New York, while on a layover before continuing on to LONDON and then to ROME.

Because J is JUST. THAT. COOL. Merry Christmas indeed!  Will share details later.

Hope you’re all having a great holiday, though I’m betting it’s not as cool as mine (insert maniacal laughter here)…