Well, well it's that time of year again and I'm as girly as the best of 'em so I truly enjoy Cupid's holiday :-) I love celebrating love {even if Valentine's day is nothing more than a commercialized holiday.}
The Plan:
A few weeks ago, Brandon and I made reservations at The Cowboy Star - a steakhouse downtown with modern-glam cowboy decor.
Isn't it pretty? I was going to pick up Brandon from school downtown at 6:15 and then we were going to head over for our 6:30 reservation.
I knew a bouquet of flowers wasn't going to be part of the deal since Brandon thinks buying flowers on Valentine's day is stupid because, "They jack up the prices," Yes, ladies -- I married a romantic. I have never minded that much since he brings me flowers so many other times during the year for no reason -- which almost means more. But yes, there is that tiny part of me that sees other girls getting roses or flowers and wishes for it.
Reality:
At 10:00 am I get an email from the receptionist asking me to come and pick up my flowers. A part of me thought they might be from my dad -- but sure enough -- they were from my new husband :-)
Cute right? He absolutely made my day! *Tip for men: sending flowers to your girl's work place can really brighten her day!
So I speed home from work, pick up the house, do the dishes and then get all dolled up. I got a new leopard print dress, new black heels, flat ironed hair, his favorite perfume etc etc.
I'm just putting on my jewelry when I hear my phone go off. There are two texts and two missed calls from Brandon.Ugh.oh. He calls while I'm reading the texts to tell me that he feels really sick and he's not sure that he can make it to dinner...
...but he still needs me to head downtown to pick him up (since he takes the train from Encinitas to SD every day).
So, of course I get in my car and speed as fast as I can -- the whole time feeling terrible for him because he's usually pretty tough and if he feels sick enough to cancel dinner on Valentine's day he must really be feeling awful. (Wow, that was the longest run-on sentence.)
45 minutes later, I pull up to his school and see him standing outside of the building, in his suit -- looking pretty pale. He gets in and looks miserable. Within the first 5 minutes of our drive, he pulls a plastic baggy out of his pocket and begins to throw up. For those of you that know me well, I despise throw up. It borders on a phobia. I don't like to throw up. I don't want to hear it, smell it, or think about the misery it brings.
So I have a slight moment of panic and roll both of the windows down. I'm frantically trying to get OUT of downtown and hating all of the "one way only" signs. I'm rubbing his back with one hand, while holding my head halfway out the window -- Ace Ventura style. I spot a Jack in the Box, peel into the parking lot and run {as best I could in my new heels} inside to get a new baggy and lots of napkins.
I come back out and he's leaning outside of the car throwing up even more. He leaves his baggy of vomit there in the parking lot {which will be a real gem for whoever stumbles upon it} and we get back in the car. He is so sad that he got some on his suit and on my car seat. In between throwing up he tells me that it's imperative that I use the carpet cleaner vacuum thingy immediately when we get home or my car will smell... forever. Another slight moment of panic.
We pull into the driveway, he realizes that his car is still at the train station down the street but it's a stick shift and I can't drive it! I tell him I'll take care of it, and he makes a beeline inside.
So, I get out of my new dress and heels, put on my sweats and drag out the vacuum cleaner. I clean the seat of my car, call Holland {his best friend who happens to live right down the road} and see if he'll go and pick up Brandon's car at the train station and bring it back. He comes right over {which is so appreciated considering it's Valentine's day and he's a newlywed.} Once Brandon's car is back safe and sound, it's time to make a trip to 7-11. I walk in, in my big baggy sweats (I'm sure I looked like a depressed girl sans a valentine) -- get a couple of bottles of Gatorade, some saltine crackers and an US Magazine.
I spent the rest of the evening reading my magazine, watching the Bachelor, and stressing out about the amount of vomiting taking place in our bathroom. Definitely a memorable Valentine's Day.
Neither of us went into work today, we spent the day drinking Gatorade, eating crackers in our pajamas and taking naps. The only time I left the house was to take his puke stained pants to the dry cleaner. So after all is said and done, Valentine's day is about expressing your love to the people you care about the most, right? And that's what I did -- took care of a sicky all night.
He's so lucky he sent flowers.
