Monday, February 14, 2011

Surprise!...You're Old

Happy Valentine's Day Readers,

     Last week I promised you a colorful post on this past weekend's exploits.  And what better way to celebrate one of the world's most commercial holidays, than outlining the most wonderful two days husband and I have had in recent memory? Let me re-phrase; it was the best two days we've had alone, in recent memory.
     Husband get's excited about many things: football, Fritos with spicy bean dip, and hearing the words "I'll change the dirty diaper this time. You go relax." Unfortunately, his birthday never makes the list of things he raises an eyebrow at. This year, I was determined to change that. Que the most awesome birthday operation ever, provided by me...worst liar ever.

     "Honey, where are the kids?" "Never you mind." I say. "No honey. Seriously, where are the kids?" Having dropped the twins at Grandpa's home, while husband was at a funeral, I found it a bit difficult to convince him that I hadn't pulled a mom horror story, and lost them somewhere. "They're at your Dad's. Now grab your wallet and get ready to start your birthday!"
     Convincing him that I hadn't lost the kids, and that we were free for the next twenty-four hours, proved a little harder than I'd anticipated. Fortunately, twenty minutes later found us driving around the parking garage of a swanky downtown hotel. "Ok. We've gotta hurry." Husband looked confused. "To do what?" "Check-in, of course!" "Wait...we're staying here?" At this, I just laughed hysterically. Not because my sweet husband was confused, but because he'd politely sat in the passenger seat, while his deranged wife drove aimlessly through a dark parking garage...no doubt looking for somewhere to dump a body.
     The rest of the afternoon is censored. Well, not all of it. Bags thrown askew in the posh room I'd presented my love with, we headed to the hotel bar and partook in one of those wonderful married-people/movie moments. You know the one. You and your other half are the only people left in the world. With drink in hand, you joke, laugh, talk about why you love each other so much...and continue to fall in love, without caring whether people are staring at you snorting into your gin glass. And if it hadn't been for the buck-toothed bartender who'd made her way from Mordor to serve us our drinks, we would've been locked completely in our own universe. But she kept starting at us so....
     Fast forward to that evening. Hair brushed and makeup in place, husband and I headed out to the event I'd pulled my best spandex out for.....and it was spectacular.
     There are very few things I've executed that smoothly, in life. The time I told that little boy in first grade that I loved him, the Thanksgiving break I bleached my hair a Pam Anderson shade of white and greeted my mother with a "What? Everyone's doing it." type of cool, and the the horrific instance I threw myself off a cliff, at the lake, like a flailing big-mouth bass, simply to outdo everyone else. All of it paled in comparison to the success that was the slickest of birthday operations known to man.
     A million dollars couldn't have purchased a smile as wide as the one that I saw, when the massive group of friends and family yelled with joy, when they saw him. Success....sweet success.
     And so it went. Husband finally got the party he's always deserved. And I...well, I'm still recovering from a spectacular weekend. Turns out, after you pass twenty one, you're supposed to stay in your home and never venture out...Ugh.

Until Next Time Readers!