True story. Fourteen years ago this week, I was about seven weeks pregnant with Callum. I have no idea what night of the week it was, but I know it was a week night when Neel and I stopped in together to the grocery store (Von's, for my Southern CA darlings!). I was lucky. I never had full-on Kate Middleton-esque morning sickness, just that foreboding feeling of misery and nausea and lethargy for the first part of my pregnancy. As we stood there, silently together, in line with our purchases, I watched idly as someone's steaks, their chocolates, their champagne, and then their roses went down the belt in front of us. Only then did it dawn on me. Valentine's Day!

With a voice born from exhaustion (and a little queasiness), I said to Neel, "I swear, if you did anything for me for Valentine's Day, I might have to kill you."

It was only later that we realized how funny that must have sounded to the people around us.

We roll that way I guess. Sometimes Valentine's Day is all chocolate hearts and big plans, and sometimes it's Thursday dinner at home when Momma has been sick all week. What never changes is that we celebrate the love we share in our family. Even when the moments feel small, that love always feels big. Every day.

So Neel's making his special steak tonight and we'll grill that and have a nice dinner at home. I think that what I've learned over the years is no matter the size of the celebration, the love is what counts. The love is what matters.

And you know what? I love you guys too. Big or small, may all your wildest Valentine's Dreams come true!