I hate this holiday - maybe

Every year I'm reminded why I hate Valentine's Day.
It's the worst of a long series of corporate-engineered holidays designed to "encourage" (i.e. do it or the expiration date will become a sad reality on that box of condoms you have for "when the moment is right") you to spend money.
Every year women (and sometimes guys) look on in envy at work here as an endless supply of barbershop quartets, roses, high school choirs, violinists and balloon pushers express the love of whomever paid their bill, all within the earshot of co-workers.
Every year restaurants are overwhelmed with those wanting to share their love over a beef fritter and garlic mashed potatoes, with two-hour waits already in place by 4 p.m.
And this year my present of Recess Peanut Butter cups (mmmm, at least I'm getting something out of this) was consumed by my two labs, who will not, as a result, win this year's Man's Best Friend award presented by Snoopy. Kate broke the news yesterday.
I was scribbling into my card to Kate yesterday about how much I truly do love her and how I know how good she'll be with the twins when I flopped a set of jacks on a two-suited board. I was already up $30 and was having visions of virtual dollars that I may never be able to withdraw dance in my head. I bet and got two callers. I bet the pot on the turn, and when the third suit came on the river, I called a bet that was one-fifth of the pot.
Three hearts.
Guy got his flush.
So I was back to even for the night.
See? I hate Valentine's Day.
And yet.
Yet it occured to me that I hadn't really said how much confidence I have in her until the card came her way. I hadn't thanked her lately for being such a good mom to Jayden. And I found my own card from her expressing her own confidence in me about our impending chaos times two.
Jayden lately is starting to, shall we say, assert himself, preferring to get a headstart on the terrible twos (which will come when the twins are born) in order to beat the rush. We bought a new computer last week, partly for him, and now if we don't allow him to spend six hours a day on it (which we don't, an hour is all he gets) playing the Little Einsteins rocket game or a Reading Rabbit Toddler game, he flops on the floor and screams like we've extracted one of his molars.
Which is not exactly what you need to see when you know that two more are on the way, and you know that not only are THEY going to be tough, but you worry about your other one, too, and how he'll respond to suddenly having his time with Mom and Dad divided into thin slices like the pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving when your 20 cousins come to visit.
So Kate's words made me feel good.
OK. So maybe it takes a corporate holiday to tell each other how much you appreciate them and how much you love them. Sad but true. I'm certainly no hopeless romantic (helpless is more like it), so if it takes a holiday to get me to say those things, and I do need to say those things, then I might just start supporting it.
Besides, I'm really looking forward to those Recess Peanut Butter cups next year.