Valentine Vexation

I'm annoyed.

This is nothing new. Irritation and I go together like Darcy and Elizabeth. I'm actually a very tolerant person, but there are certain things that set my teeth on edge. Failure to think things through on someone else's part, resulting in inconvenience, expense or danger on my part, is one of them. This, unfortunately, is neither uncommon nor infrequent.

This Wednesday is, of course, Valentine's Day. I'll forego my customary rant about holiday commercialism...and get right to the crux of my aggravation. This week is also Teacher Appreciation Week at my children's school.

Becaus that makes perfect sense, right?

Why in the world would the people or persons responsible for this event choose a week already fraught with the potential for marital disaster and fiscal irresponsibility in the face of sheer desperation?

Aside from having to think of somethly wildly romantic that I haven't already done in our thirteen years of marital bliss, (that's not only 13 Valentine's Days, but 13 anniversaries, birthdays, father's days and Christmases...that's SEVENTY EIGHT gift giving occasions, people) plan it, execute it, prepare myself bodily for it and figure out how to pay for it without tipping off husband...now I have the added pressure and expense of providing a gift every day this week for the teacher.

Don't get me wrong. I am completely in support of the concept. Teachers are overworked and underpaid, especially considering the huge and lasting impact they have on our children. A good teacher can inspire and motivate in ways that a parent never truly can. A bad teacher can cause irreperable damage to a child's confidence and self-esteem. Aside from us, teachers are the most important people our children will encounter during their formative years.

Diminutive One's teacher falls squarely in the middle of that range. She is neither exceptionally good nor exeedingly bad. But she is dealing with Diminutive One day in and day out and that in itself is deserving of some recognition and recompense.

So it's not the concept, but rather the excess, which seems to be creeping into every aspect of life these days, that sticks in my craw. I don't begrudge teachers some much needed pampering, even though I, the woman who pushed an absurdly large child from my theretofore unscathed woman parts, only gets one stinkin day out of the whole year. But is a whole week of gifts really necessary?

Today I must send a flower.

Do you know that a single red rose costs $5.99 at the grocery store? I don't get flowers anyway. They die. Quickly. I'd rather have a book. We bought a Dove chocolate rose instead. $3.49, which is still ridiculous for a single, hollow chocolate rose, but at least it won't die.

Tuesday I must send a special snack; sweet for girls, salty for boys.

A no brainer, but that's another $2.99 out of my pocket.

Wednesday Dimuntive One must present his teacher with a homemade Valentine.

This sounds like a rather inexpensive venture, right? But by the time you buy construction paper (because of course I have 47 sheets of brown and orange construction paper, but no red), glitter (because the glut of Christmas crafting a mere two months ago has completely depleted our supply and resulted in an oath to never ever purchase any more glitter ever, until the end of time), glue (because the existence of glue and/or tape in this house is fleeting at best) and paper heart doilies (because apparently, folding paper sideways and cutting out hearts is not as fun and challenging as it was when I was a kid)...I have invested about 5 times that for which I could have simply BOUGHT a card.

Thursday the children are to wear their teacher's favorite color.

Again, it seems like this would not require any kind of expenditure on my part. But her favorite color is pink. I have boys. They do not posess anything pink. I am a redhead. I do not wear pink and have nothing whatever to loan them, even if they would deign to wear something of mine to school, which I assure you they would not. Which means another item that I have to buy, which my child will take off about 4 seconds after he gets to school and will, most likely, meet with some terrible but tragically unavoidable accident at some point during the day.

Friday the children are asked to present the teacher with a special gift.

We have graciously been provided with a list of things his teacher likes: candles, bath and body products, scrapbooking, exercising, reading, the type of books she enjoys, and which retail and eating establishments she prefers. In other words, we are not to buy cheap crap. I actually have no problem with this. I'd rather buy one good gift then send 5 essentially meaningless and useless gifts. We chose Teacher Man, by Frank McCourt, because it has the word "teacher" in the title, and because it fortuitously found it's way into my cart at the grocery store.

So, let's recap: $3.49 chocolate rose, $2.99 bag of Chex Mix, $47.25 $10 on craft supplies ...$4.99 for a pink t-shirt from the girls department at Target and $11 for the book.

That is a grand total of $32.47.

That might not seem like a large sum. And, I suppose, in comparison to all that teachers do for our children, it's trifling, really. But we are a single income family. And though we are luckier than most, we still have to watch our budget carefully. It will be all I can do to embezzle enough money from the joint checking to finance something lurid and clandestine with my husband...This is a BAD week to be spending money on someone who doesn't give me orgasms.

Still, there is no question that I will. Because for a lot of years, I was the kid with no gift for the teacher. I was the one who never had an apple to place triumphantly on her desk (because teachers can never get enough apples) or a globe to present to the class (because everybody has an extra globe lying around).

My kid won't have to know the shame of that as long as I am alive to write bad checks.

But I don't have to like it. And I can write about it on my blog.

So there.