(I heart Cookie Mondays Handmade!)A. This RAD BANNER has nothing to do with the following story. I just happen to love it. But then again a YAY is in order when I think about the fact that I in fact did not indeed get murdered.
B. Y is my favorite letter in the alphabet. What is yours?
C. Again, I just really love this banner. A lot a lot a lot.
D. I gave up sugar. Again. This time for Lent. Yesterday I wanted to go have one crazy giant Cadbury egg fueled last hurrah. But the swagger wagon was at the dealer because the clicker thing that opens the sliding doors was broken. Sigh. More of the rich people problems.
E. On with the murder story.
So, I am not a huge Valentine's Day girl. I don't hate it, per se. I just don't looooooove it, you know. I don't like roses. Boxes of weird nut and nougat filled chocolate are super creepy to me (unless it is a box of milk chocolate Bordeaux from See's, because that is something I could support). Going out to eat in the midst of big crowds? No. Plus there is that whole childcare thing.
(The kind of flowers I most love to get.)
Of all the holidays, Valentine's Day is one of them.
But, I didn't want to ignore the deal all together. So Jason's parents kindly agreed to watch the girls for a few hours and we planned Shane's nap to give us just enough time to eat a quiet meal. One that didn't involve any family members CRYING because they suddenly hate food, or cheese, or butter, or chicken nuggets, or normal things that were TOTALLY FINE the day before. Drama, I tell you, drama.
On the way back from dropping them off, he picked up our meals from a place that we have been going to forever and ever. A place that we love. A place that apparently, recently totally stripped down their menu, and ditched all of OUR MOST FAVORITE things. Not just removed them from the menu, but you could still order them, and the kitchen will oblige your old school request, sort of ditching. NO. Never again to be seen. Gone. Forever and ever. Our favorite dessert in all the world? Buh bye. The nerve.
But we tried to be flexible, perhaps sulked a bit, thought about changing restaurants, but tarried on. With different, less favorite items.
Blah blah blah.
Shane woke up.
Picked up the girls.
They went to bed.
I started feeling crummy.
Shane went to bed.
I fell asleep.
Somehow Shane slept through his normal 1am party time. YAY! (Tie in with the banner... eh? I'm not totally random.)
Then at 3:12 I woke up.
The kind of wake up you never, ever, ever, want.
The dizzy, angry stomach, kind of wake up.
Ya. You know the kind.
I will spare you the details, but for the record, I have an incredibly high tolerance for throwing up. I have survived hyperemesis gravidarum three times, and lived to tell about it. Sort of.
This was a whole different level. Ten thousand different levels, in fact.
I am positive that I saw the Grim Reaper himself, lounging in the bathtub, patiently biding his time, playing Sudoku, while I lay SOBBING on the bathroom floor.
It was that bad. If we didn't have a houseful of kids, I would have made Jason take me to the ER. But then again, going to the ER meant I would have had to move from the bathroom floor. Which was a wholly, totally, impossible task, given the whole Grim Reaper-ness and such.
The restaurant, which shall not be named, tried to straight up MURDER me. On Valentine's day.
It is now dead to me. Forever and ever and ever. First they took away caramel apple cream cheese pie, which in itself is almost unforgivable. But then they tried to make my husband a widower. Not cool, not cool at all.
The plus side to this saga? I got my nineteen hours of rest. Not exactly the way that I would have hoped. But Lucy asked God, and He answered.
(Of course self portrait day for the February photo challenge had to happen on this day. Of course.)