Welcome back to Finish The Sentence Friday (FTSF). We give you a sentence and you finish it (however long or short you’d like). Write a post and link it up, or if you don’t blog, feel free to finish the sentence in the comments for everyone to see.
This week’s sentence is: “The most memorable Valentine’s Day I ever had was….”
Next week’s sentence is: “I get so frustrated when…”
The most memorable Valentine’s Day I ever had was two years ago. First of all, it’s not because it was that magical or anything, it’s just that what with my maternally compromised brain functioning, it’s the only one I have any clear recollection of.
I was about 8 weeks pregnant, and I felt like total crap. I pretty much hated all food, I was tired all the time, and I cried every time I heard Unchained Melody play on the 1960s Music TV Channel. You know, your typical first trimester stuff.
Izzy was 4 years old, and it was pretty difficult to pull the wool over her eyes. I felt tremendously guilty that I was such a bummer of a mommy, and I was concerned that she would be worried about why I never felt well enough to eat dinner with them anymore. But at 8 weeks along, and with several previous pregnancy losses, there was no way in hell I was letting the cat out of the bag to her. We’d already had 2 ultrasounds due to my history, and I was fairly confident things would turn out okay, (In case you were wondering, they did. Enter Sophie.) but I still wanted to wait until 12 weeks to tell Izzy.
This proved to be rather challenging, due to the fact that two days before I peed on the stick, she lifted up my shirt, patted my belly knowingly and said, “There’s a baby in your tummy.” (I’m dead serious. The child is beyond intuitive.) The two month long charade was excruciating- somewhere around my ninth week we were watching Wheel of Fortune after dinner and I found myself scrutinizing a contestant who may or may not have been pregnant. As if reading my mind, Izzy asked, “Is there a baby in that lady’s tummy?” I told her I wasn’t sure, and then she added, “Is there a baby in your tummy? It looks like there is!”
I had heard that one’s belly tends to “pop” sooner with a second baby. Truth.
At any rate, I was feeling so guilty that I had been such a crappy, lazy, slacker mom who didn’t even have a solid explanation she could present to her four year old, that I decided we should have a surprise Valentine’s Day party for Izzy.
One day I called the husband at work and said, “I think we should have a surprise party for Izzy. I’m just….feeling…(gulping back sobs)…so bad that I have been…(sniffling)…such a bad mommy to her…(blowing nose)…these past few weeks…(openly bawling)…and I want to do something nice for her!” So we did. We decorated, bought all the pink Princess crap we could find at Target, splurged on more sweet treats than were regularly sanctioned, and threw her a big bash.
She really was surprised and delighted with our efforts, and I was surprised to find out that she and Daddy had gone out to buy special things for me, too. (Why do I continue to be unprepared for these celebrations? My husband always has something nice for me on special occasions like our anniversary, and I always end up looking like a thoughtless, ungrateful jerk. Well, better than the other way around, right?)
The party was a hit, and the following weekend Shawn and I went away on our annual 3 day trip to Estes Park, a short drive away from where we live in Colorado. We are lucky enough to have my parents, whose enthusiastic willingness to babysit provides us with the opportunity for a short getaway, and we always look forward to a weekend of shopping, excellent dining, and relaxation.
Thanks to my first trimester malaise, I pretty much slept 2/3 of each day during the whole weekend; I preferred to be conscious only when reading the Girl With The Dragon Tattoo books, my primary means of entertainment during our holiday. Every time we went to a restaurant I would flee to the bathroom and sob because everything on the menu was so unappealing to my morning-sickness contaminated palate.
Guess what? This year on Valentine’s Day, the good husband and I will be taking that same 3- day trip to Estes Park, sans children, for the first time in two years. It will be our first time leaving our sixteen month old, which will likely be emotional for me. However, it will also be the first time in two years that I am neither pregnant nor breastfeeding, and I will be making up for our last trip with my zeal for culinary delights and wine. I am hoping that this Valentine’s Day will knock 2011 out of the “most memorable” category. Stay tuned!
Your FTSF hosts:
Janine from Janine’s Confessions of a Mommyaholic
Kate from Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine?
Dawn from Dawn’s Disaster
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