Valentine's Day

There were no flowers for me.
No benevolent family members to teach my son thoughtfulness.
No card.
No chocolate.
Just my son
hugging, cuddling,
laying his head on mine,
tolerating a cousin,
sharing his toys
and his food.
Hugs and kisses.
That was my Valentine's Day.

Hurried footsteps up the stairs
a 3 year old in a panic.
"Can someone take me poopy?"
I asked my Daddy but he was too busy.
"My booty hurts."
Half way through a diaper change
a naked butt staring up at me from the bed.
Can you find your gramma?
"Sit on the potty,
I'll go get your Daddy."
Daddy, I don't like my aunty anymore.
Hugs and kisses.
That was my Valentine's Day.

"I want Salahaldin's toy."
Gramma, give me Salahaldin's toy
Salahaldin's food
Salahaldin.
It's MINE.
Okay, baby, we'll go get you your own.
No. I don't want my own.
I want HIS
His is better
His is nicer
His is his
I want his.
Bruises shaped like 3 year old fingers
taunt me from my baby's arms.
Why do you let him play with me?
"ENOUGH!
I told you no more pushing, no more snatching,
no more. Time out."
Screams.
Fake tears.
Hugs and kisses.
That was my Valentine's Day.

Sick stomach.
Hurting head.
Pounding sinuses.
Running noses.
Coughing toddler.
"Raisins, Mama!"
No. More. Raisins.
"Wah der?
Kah kee?
Milk?
A cup?"
Sleep before the diaper's closed.
No hug. No kiss.
That was my Valentine's Day.