~:: by Frugalista Blog ::~
Ugh. I hate Valentine’s Day. Okay, I do not really hate it. It is cute and all. I like getting heart shaped things and baked goods for the kids. I like the ‘IDEA‘ of Valentine’s Day. The actual holiday- it is never cracked up to the expectation.
Valentine’s Day is in February. What is February? Winter, that’s what. Winter is flu season.
Let’s see here. There was the time hubs and I had Grandma ready to come over and babysit because we had a fancy schmancy hotel room at the W downtown all booked and paid for as a sales reward from his company. Yeah, you know that place. It has Bliss products in the bathrooms and memory foam mattresses and flat screen TVs. I was all, “Oh yeah, I’m gonna be wearing a robe and stealing me some toiletries!”
Guess what happened instead? The day before we were supposed to go, I started feeling kinda funky. I remember volunteering at my son’s Kindergarten class party. I started to feel a little tired, kinda woozy. Maybe my blood sugar was low, and I needed to eat something? I went home and had some lunch hoping I’d feel better. This was not the case. Sure enough, the flu struck: fast and hard. All I can say is- it is a good thing I was at home when this happened. Home is the only place you want to be when you have to toss your cookies at the altar of the porcelain god. It does not just happen once, but usually a few more times before it is out of your system. Am I right?
I was hoping I could sleep this one off and that it was just a 24 hour thing. Maybe it was something I ate? Hmmm….
12 hours later….
I woke up with body aches and a fever. Oh lord is me, I wanted to die and low and behold, our son started puking too! Isn’t that always fun to be a sick mom looking after sick kids? Ugh.
Sure enough, the time of reckoning came and I had hubs call his mom and tell her not to bother coming. Our house was a haz mat station of puke bowls, ginger ale and heat pads.
Here is the best part- I sent hubs to the hotel room so it would not go to waste. It was a logical choice- having a sick husband is pretty much worse than being sick yourself. I sent him to a sterile hotel environment. Yes, that was sarcasm. Also, someone had to steal my toiletries for me. The room was already paid for, so he had a quiet night of 600 thread count sheets and Pay-Per-View. I told him not to come back with stripper glitter or anything worse than the virus I already had, and sent him on his way.
The following weekend, we did have a date night and went to dinner. It was nice. It was not a night away in a fancy hotel room, but it was still fun. My appetite was back and we had a sitter, that was all that mattered!
The following year, he was in Vegas for a trade show. I was home with – you guessed it- a stomach bug. Oh whaddya know, it was Valentine’s Day and I was eating rice cakes and drinking Gatorade!
As we approach the month of February, I’m telling hubs not to count on me for putting in an order for lobster tails delivered Fed Ex from Maine and a champagne dinner for two. I’m playing it safe and washing my hands like crazy, and making sure I have some Jell-o in the house.
Can you blame me?
ABOUT REBECCA: She is a wife of one, a mom of two and she drives a minivan. She might serve on the PTA, she might wear yoga pants, but don’t underestimate the cliche that is her life! These are her confessions of a middle-aged drama queen.
CONTINUE READING IN THE BEDROOM