Do you love Valentine’s Day? I used to hate it, and told my husband so when we first started dating. Year after year passed with me scoffing at what I viewed as commercialism of the holiday as he, well, remained indifferent, though probably relieved that my expectations were low. It wasn’t until two years ago, when I was helping Sam prepare his Toy Story valentines for school, when I became inexplicably interested in celebrating.

All of a sudden I felt like the fact that we didn’t do anything special on Valentine’s Day was a major indication of our feelings for each other. I mentioned going out for dinner and got really touchy when he…remained indifferent. Then I set about making reservations and finding a babysitter, but naturally, it being February 13, wasn’t able to accomplish either. To make a long story short, I completely lost my cool when he said the inevitable “But…you’ve never cared about Valentine’s Day!”, even though it was true. I stormed out of the house for an angry walk and nearly burst into tears when I saw some other woman’s (or man’s) significant other walk up a driveway with a bouquet of flowers.

I know that I acted irrationally and overreacted to boot, but that night Brian and I had a good talk. He said that he’d always agreed with me that there didn’t need to be a day set aside specifically for love, but he’d also never hated the holiday like I’d always claimed to. I said I didn’t know what brought on my wanting to celebrate it, and he joked that having children must have unfrozen my heart! Then we agreed to celebrate the next year, because, hey, there wasn’t really any harm in it, after all. We agreed to take turns organizing each year’s outing, and he (very gallantly, I thought) offered to go first. In 2011, Brian and I went to dinner at Gio Rana’s (one of my favourites) and a movie, and I was pleasantly shocked by the new pair of earrings he gave me.

This year was my turn to plan Valentine’s, and I spent at least a week mulling over menus of some of the most romantic restaurants in Toronto. I was just starting to analyze wine lists when I realized I’d become a complete parody of myself, looking up the most expensive restaurants in town to blow money on just because it happened to be Feb. 14. I also reminded myself that seven-course dining isn’t really Brian’s thing. “That’s it!” I thought, and “Duh!”

Nothing would make Brian happier than a pint of Belgian and some good old-fashioned pub food. We were going to Bier Markt.

It was a great decision; he couldn’t believe it! Bier Markt may not sound like the most romantic of locations, but beer is the way to a man’s heart, and the grin on his face as we sat down was much brighter than the single flickering candles that have come to be associated with romancing. Ironically, theirs was the one menu I didn’t pick apart, so I was overjoyed when I saw FONDUE on the menu. Funny how things work out sometimes, isn’t it? Brian had his best Valentine’s ever at Bier Markt, and I did too, because there’s nothing better than making the person you love feel very happy, after the Chocolate Peanut Butter Fondue, of course.

Click here to enter a contest for a $75 Bier Markt gift card!

My family and I usually cook at home as opposed to going out to eat, but that doesn’t mean the kids don’t ask about having dinner in a restaurant! Of course I remember what it was like to be their age–anything tastes better than Mum’s cooking, right?–but I try to provide a healthy, balanced and…edible diet as much as possible before taking the kids for the ultimate treat of dining out. I want to spoil my kids, trust me–I just love them too much to actually do it.!

Last night, Brian and I caved and took ourselves as well as Sam and April to an eatery very much their cup of tea: the Rainforest Cafe in the Yorkdale Mall. It’s certainly not the first place I want to blow my money on mediocre food (although I like their solar panels) but it’s set up for little ones and they’re able to burn a bunch of energy playing in the ‘rainforest’ before it’s time to sit down and get nourished. Before we’d arrived, I had Sam and April promise to be on their best behaviour, to play nicely together and to expect only one chocolate milk. Sam was a little too quick to acquiesce– I had a feeling he’d opened his mouth and spoken empty words–and that I’d have to have the ‘Pinocchio’ discussion with him a bit later.

It wasn’t long before my son was driving me batty. There was a small group of ‘big boys’ (and by ‘big boys’ I mean 8-year-olds as opposed to 6-year-old Sam) and he clearly didn’t think he looked very cool with his three-year-old sister trailing after him. So, he left her alone as soon as they were out of my vision. I heard her crying within minutes and ran off to rescue her, standing alone under some giant fake leaves with tears and snot dripping down her face and a score of concerned–no, smug–mothers watching her from their perches. I picked her up just as Sam was ripping by in full pursuit of one of the big boys; I grabbed him with my free arm.

“OK, playtime’s over, Sam,” I said. “You were supposed to keep your sister safe.”

“Can I have chocolate milk and pizza?” was his reply.

I should have said no, but by that point I was already feeling a little nutso and was willing to give him what he wanted until it was time to go–so we ordered the pizza, two chocolate milks and two much-needed pints. Sam gulped his milk down in one go, mischief in his eyes. “Can I have another chocolate milk?” he asked. “Sam, what did your mother tell you?” asked Brian. “Who cares what she said?” said my son. “She’s just old!”

That was it.

“That’s it, Sam,” I said, very calmly, I might add. “No more chocolate milk and no more playing. Green chair when we get home, ten minutes.”

Does it make me a bad person that it was kind of satisfying to watch his face go from cad to sad? I should hope not. A survivor of discipline-by-spanking myself, I’ve found that method savage and ultimately unproductive. This is what capital punishment looks like in our house: a small closet with nothing in it besides an old stove timer and an ugly little green chair. Naughty child must serve their sentence without getting up or sentence is doubled, no exceptions. For a child just getting in touch with their own reserves of daytime energy, no punishment is worse.

I like to think it serves a triple purpose psychologically: 1) it helps children realize that time is precious and 2) it helps children (well, my speed-of-light children at least) to experience a quiet moment of reflection and 3) will eliminate poor home furniture choices (ie. green chairs) in the future.

Oddly enough, our last restaurant experience has left me craving another (childless) one. Has anyone tried the Bier Markt in Toronto? I’m looking for a great Winterlicious experience, and a babysitter!