"Did you pack everything you need?" he asked.
In a resentful tone I replied, "I don't need to pack. I put everything I need in that plastic bag over there. I can't even find my weekender bag in this mess!" The truth is I was looking for sympathy and I was looking to hear him say, "Maybe we shouldn't go, maybe we should stay with our kids." But that's not the message I ultimately received.
He had his heart set on going away for the weekend; just the two of us. At one point during my silent protests he even said something about paying attention to my husband too. He was crying out for attention and although I could mentally understand it, emotionally I couldn't because there was a little baby in the back of my mind.
I have a pretty level head on my shoulders and it's not that easy for me to get emotional. I'm not the textbook example of what you think of when you think: woman. But Mateo has done something to the chemicals in my brain where while his constant crying sometimes drives me to the edge, on the same note the thought of leaving him for just one night caused me to weep like most of my other estrogen-carrying counterparts would. It's that newborn/mother bond... I'm not immune to it, turns out.
Other than my silent, passive-aggressiveness I did not protest any further with my husband. The rational side of me knew that he was right. A weekend away from the boys would be beneficial for the both of us and this was our only opportunity for awhile. But at that moment, the main reason that I did not protest was mostly to save an argument between the two of us. No good could come from me running my mouth off while emotional. It would be like entertaining an argument with a drunk, belligerent fool.
Speaking of drunk, in an hour and a half we reached our destination: wine country. Where my husband wined and dined me (maybe a little too much of the wining part says the hangover I had the next day!) He dropped some extra dollars on a fabulous suite complete with a jacuzzi tub and fireplace with flat panel tv above it, where he further spoiled me by watching 2, count 'em 2!, Rachel McAdams movies! He NEVER does that (The Gladiator and 300 are just about the only types of movies he enjoys) He topped the cherry on the cake when he agreed that The Time Traveler's Wife is better than The Notebook. Can it get any more romantical than that?
And that's how I unintentionally spent my St. Patrick's Day! -Shirley
Click below if you were also a belligerent drunk on St. Paddy's Day! ;)
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