Valentine’s Day in the Sandwich Generation.

Ah, Valentine’s Day. The holiday that used to be about roses, overpriced prix fixe menus, and maybe a little romance. Now? Well to start, it’s my mother’s birthday, and this year, she’s dealing with some medical issues, which means emotions are running high. My high schooler is somewhat single, which could mean anything from total indifference to a full-blown last minute rom-com event, and my just-out-of-college-aged kid? He’s off in his own world, likely navigating some relationship disaster I won’t hear about until it blows up spectacularly.

And my husband and I? Well, our current love language appears to be binge-watching The Traitors and gasping dramatically at every betrayal. I don’t know what that says about us, but honestly? We’re obsessed.

So yeah—this season of life means Valentine’s Day is a lot.

When You’re Stuck in the Middle of Everyone Else’s Valentine’s Day

Somewhere along the way, this holiday shifted from being about us to being about everyone else. Instead of planning romantic evenings or indulging in small joys, I find myself balancing everyone else’s emotional needs. My mom’s birthday takes priority, and rightfully so, but that doesn’t make it any less overwhelming when you add in the fact that she’s navigating health challenges and the toll it's also taking on my dad. My high schooler’s kind of single, which means I’m bracing for either unexpected emotions or last-minute plans. Meanwhile, my college-aged kid is likely making relationship decisions that will cause me stress in three to five business days.

And then there’s the reality of midlife romance. Let’s be honest—Valentine’s Day looks different when you’ve been with your partner for a while. This year, the idea of an elaborate date night feels exhausting. My husband and I have reached a phase where our most exciting shared experience lately is watching people backstab each other on reality TV. Honestly, we might be onto something, because nothing screams “intimacy” like analyzing strategic betrayals together.

The Emotional Labor of Valentine’s Day

As if being in the sandwich generation weren’t enough, Valentine’s Day seems to come with an extra layer of obligation. It’s not just about remembering to show love—it’s about managing everyone else’s expectations and feelings in the process.

My mom deserves to feel special on her birthday, and my kids need me to be a sounding board for their latest relationship revelations. But somewhere in the mix, I find myself wondering when exactly I’m supposed to feel special, too.

Parenting adult-ish kids is so different from when they were little. Back then, Valentine’s Day meant cutting out heart-shaped construction paper and sneaking chocolate after bedtime. Now, it’s about coaching them through dating dilemmas, reminding them that toxic partners don’t deserve a second chance, and subtly suggesting that blowing an entire paycheck on an extravagant dinner is not the best life choice.

Meanwhile, my parents are in a completely different stage, one where love looks a lot more like companionship than grand gestures. At this age I know some are widowed, some are still together, but nearly all of them are reflecting on what love means at this stage in life. For those who are alone, the day can bring up some heavy emotions. And somehow, that emotional weight trickles down to us—the generation trying to hold it all together.

Reclaiming Valentine’s Day for Me

So here’s the thing: I love my family. I want to be there for my kids, my parents, and my partner. But that doesn’t mean I have to put myself dead last on the list every single time.

What if, instead of making sure everyone else feels loved, I actually put myself first for once?

What if I bought myself something nice instead of waiting for someone else to do it? What if I romanticized my own damn life—took myself out for coffee, ordered the fancy takeout, or watched a movie alone in complete peace? What if I actually made the day about me?

I don’t need a grand romantic gesture. I don’t need overpriced roses or an extravagant dinner reservation. What I do need is to remind myself that self-love is still love.

Setting Boundaries and Letting Go of the Guilt

This year, I’m setting boundaries. I’ll check in on my mom, but I won’t spend the entire day playing emotional caretaker. I’ll be there for my kids, but I won’t drop everything to help them navigate Valentine’s Day crises. And my husband and I? We’ll continue our Traitors marathon, because at this point, watching psychological warfare unfold on-screen is our version of romance.

And honestly? That sounds pretty damn perfect.

This season of life is already full of caretaking, decision-making, and being the glue that holds everything together. Valentine’s Day doesn’t need to be another thing on the to-do list.

So this year, I’m flipping the script.

💖 I’m doing something for me.

💖 I’m spending time how I actually want to.

💖 I’m reminding myself that love starts here—with me.

And later tonight? My husband and I will be celebrating the true meaning of Valentine’s Day: betrayal, deception, and reality TV gold.