Saturday: Not So Cranky Dada celebrates his 31st year of being awesomely Matt-full. Since the in-laws are in town looking at real estate, they give us the best present ever: babysitting so we can go on a date! A real-life, no-babies-involved date! I can still barely believe it, so I will say it again: we had a date, my husband and I! (Possibly we need to do this more often.)
The plan was to go to PF Chang’s, but – surprise! – restaurants are busy on Saturday nights. Not to be deterred, Not So and I strolled around the Pearl for a while (passing Blue Hour, which fills me with longing but is, unfortunately, way out of our price range), but he deemed most of the restaurants we passed as “too fussy” (the Pearl? Too fussy? No way!). We hopped on the trolley and took it out to PSU. The theory was that college students need to eat, but apparently that theory was flawed. There was nothing out there.
We made our way back toward downtown. “Let’s have fondue!” said Not So. “Ooh!” said I. We scurried down the stairs to Melting Pot. “Oh, I’m sorry,” said one of the hostesses, “We don’t have anything until at least 9:30.” Not So and I looked into the nearly-empty restaurant, looked back at the hostess, and said “O-kaaaay.”
Now we were really hungry, and the adventure was beginning to wear thin. “First place we find,” said Not So, and I agreed. That turned out to be Bistro 921 in the Hilton. They had plenty of tables, seated us right away, and – bonus! – Not So has a membership at the Hilton health club, which gave us a fat discount on the meal. I had salmon, which was heavenly, and Not So got down with a steak, which came with these mashed potatoes with bleu cheese that I will seriously have dreams about for the next week. (Like a crack dealer, he let me have a taste for free.)
Afterward we went out to Voodoo Donut for dessert. On our way to the train, we passed a bunch of guys playing bagpipes. Eee! Bagpipes! I wanted to stay and hang out with the Scotsmen, but we ran for the train instead.
Happy Fun Baby was all smiles when we got home. The grandparents said he was a perfect angel, although he did spend twenty minutes crying after he woke up and found himself in the crib. (He does that for us, too – I just hadn’t thought to mention it.) When I came upstairs, Grandma Not So was sitting in the dark with the baby, holding him up to the window so he could see the stars. Grandma Not So = sucker. Everyone is a sucker for Happy Fun Baby.
After the grandparents left, we made some coffee and had our donuts. (Note:This part of the story will come up later. Literally.) We watched some TV, Happy Fun Baby nursed like a mad fiend (Grandparents: He wasn’t really interested in the bottle. I guess he wasn’t hungry! Me: Ha.) I took the baby (who was passed out on my chest) to bed around midnight, and I fell right asleep. All was well in the Cranky house…or was it?
Two a.m. (or so): I woke up with bile in my throat, feeling seasick. I couldn’t even begin to fall back to sleep. After laying there for a while I got up (being careful not to disturb Ellison) and called down the stairs. “Baby? I need you.”
Not So slooooooowly (or so it seemed) came to the foot of the stairs. “What’s up?”
I said “I need you to keep an eye on the baby because I think I’m going to be sick.”
He came up and I crouched over the toilet, feeling horrible and wanting nothing more than to lay my head on the cool, cool linoleum. But nothing happened, so I came back into the bedroom. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I ate something bad.” Not So rubbed my back for a while, and I think he was getting ready to go back downstairs when all of a sudden I felt a lot worse and made another bathroom run. Let me just say: there is nothing good about throwing up a combination of salmon and donuts. Nothing good.
I came back to bed and Not So said he was going to run downstairs to turn things off, since it seemed like I was going to need him for a while. I said okay, but the minute he got downstairs the nausea hit again with a vengeance. I literally ran for the toilet, hoping the baby wouldn’t wake up and roll off the bed before Not So got back but really, really not being able to worry too much about it because OMG sick.
Happily that was the last regurgitation trip, but I spent the rest of the weekend feeling like – well, feeling like I did when I was pregnant. Which I’m so not. But, dude – in case I was thinking about it? Unending nausea + small needy baby = no fun at all.
Still. If someone had told me beforehand “You will go out with your husband, but you will be sick all night afterward” – I still would have gone for it. A date with my husband is totally worth it.
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