What Valentine’s Day Looks Like as a Single Mom

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When you’re a single mom, Valentine’s Day doesn’t revolve around romantic dinners, fancy gifts, or heart-shaped chocolates. Instead, it’s a whirlwind of last-minute preparations and chaotic adventures. Picture this: on February 13th, I’m scouring the clearance section at Target, digging through a pile of reject cards. I spend hours cramming Pop Rocks and Sweet Tarts into tiny envelopes. Then, at 9 p.m., I find myself emailing my kid’s teacher for the class list because I can only remember a handful of the 23 students. After stuffing the valentines with sugary treats, I dive into Pinterest, searching for a “healthy” snack that parents will approve of and kids will actually eat. I might attempt to create something that looks straightforward, like a ladybug made of chocolate-dipped clementines or watermelon hearts topped with grape cupids on toothpicks. Yes, this is my reality. On the most romantic day of the year, I’m busy crafting edible art.

As a single mom, holidays take on a different meaning. My child’s teacher steps in for the “other parent,” sending home cards for every public school holiday. Without those macaroni hearts and handprint turkeys, my fridge would be bare, and my heart, well, a bit hollow.

But let’s not shed tears for me. I’m perfectly okay with it. Right now, my focus isn’t on finding a valentine. It’s entirely feasible that I could put myself out there; I’m not exactly a hunchback, after all. Someday, I might brave a February 14th date, but for now, I’d be the most distracted date imaginable.

“Here’s a card I didn’t have time to sign because I was too busy picking up library books, grocery shopping, making calls, cooking dinner, and cleaning the guinea pig cage. By the time I got to the pharmacy, the only card left was in Spanish and addressed to someone’s grandmother—‘¡Feliz día de San Valentín, abuelita!’ All the good candy was gone, but I did discover a Smurfs Pez dispenser in the parking lot. So, Happy Valentine’s Day!”

I have my daughter 100% of the time, except for a few weekends a year. Trying to carve out time for dating is like hunting for a Barbie shoe at the bottom of the toy box or recalling what my body looked like before breastfeeding—futile, frustrating, and ultimately impossible.

This year, instead of making dinner reservations or searching for a flirty dress, I’ll pick up my sugar-fueled child from school. Her lips will sport a neon pink frosting mustache, and for the next few hours, she’ll be bouncing off the walls, begging for “just one more gummy heart!” I’ll wipe away the frosting, kiss her forehead, and remind her to take it one day at a time.

While everyone else shares their lovey-dovey social media posts about their partners alongside pictures of roses or chocolates, I’ll glance at my daughter who, after a sugar crash and some potential vomit, has finally fallen asleep. And you know what? I’ve never loved a valentine more.

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Summary

Being a single mom on Valentine’s Day means shifting focus from romantic gestures to fun, sugar-filled activities with your child. It’s all about creativity, last-minute rushes, and finding joy in small moments rather than traditional celebrations.