Happy freaking Valentine's Day

Last weekend was, clearly, the big romantic gesture from Dude and I certainly did not expect anything like that again for Valentine's Day. We're usually more of the Valentine's card and a nice dinner kind of folks anyway - not buying into the giant boxes of chocolates, dozens of roses, etc. But Dude informed me earlier in the week that we were going somewhere for a "family Valentine's thing" on Saturday at 5pm. I pried for clues and was told that it was inside and I didn't need to make dinner. Hm. That could pretty much mean dinner anywhere. Fun!


So Friday late afternoon found me exceptionally tired and crabby with my throat starting to hurt. Uh oh. We ate dinner and I basically went to bed with the girls, falling asleep around 8:30pm. I awoke Saturday morning at 7am feeling fine. Fashew! Crisis averted! Because moms don't get sick. I'm just not allowed to. It doesn't work.

Needless to say, there was a no celebrating of the day of the Valentine on Friday.

Saturday morning found us with one sick little Buglet - nasty cough, thoroughly runny nose, slight fever. Poor kid. We spent the morning being pretty chill, then Dude watched them for about 3 hours in the afternoon so that I could leave the house by myself for a break (lord knows I need those as often as I can). When I came home, Buggy seemed so-so and Dude said that she would be fine for what he had planned. So, off we went to... FIVE GUYS! I love me a little bacon cheeseburger with all kinds of stuff on it. Yuuuuuummmmmm. Anyway. Bug's health proceeded to go downhill rapidly while we there, including somehow getting a diaper wedgie and peeing all over my lap just as our food was ready. No really - Happy Valentine's Day family dinner. Good times.

Both girls fell asleep as we drove home. We changed them, got 'em in jammies, and called bedtime early. Dude laid down with them, as he does every night. It took forever for Buggy to fall asleep soundly enough for him to get up, though. Finally, finally he came downstairs... and announced he didn't feel very well, had a major headache, was going to do the dishes and go to bed. Which meant that I took off the little number I had hidden under my sweats and shoved it beneath the futon. Sigh.

Today, the Bug is more sick than yesterday (including puking on the couch) and Belly's cough is getting worse. I'm not even going to allow myself to think that there might be some sort of romantic anything with my husband tonight to celebrate this day of amour.

But I sincerely hope that you and yours have done something spectacular to mark the day. I've been living vicariously through my friend on Facebook who posted pictures of her hot air balloon ride. Obviously, she does not have kids.

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