This post is really wordy, for which I apologize. But it’s really for my memory-keeping more than your enjoyment. Sorry ’bout that.
I’m always a little hesitant to post about the sweet things my husband does for me, whether it be on this blog or Instagram, Facebook, or elsewhere. I think it’s lovely to have these little moments between us that are just for us. It kind of irks me sometimes when I see people on social media (usually the same people, just repeat offenders) posting love notes from their significant other for everyone to read. I mean, what? That was meant for you! Or when people update their status every. single. day. about how their spouse is so great because of this, this and this. Don’t tell us. TELL THEM!
So, I considered not telling you about my little getaway weekend that Evan surprised me with on Friday. But really, it was too great not to share.
At work on Friday, I was feeling really worn out. Sleepy. Skanky. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d had a shower. (Just keeping it real.)
Evan called and said he’d like to do dinner, maybe a movie. But I requested that we just stay home and hang out. My mom had watched Charlotte for two days straight, and there was no way I could ask her to watch her a few more hours. He agreed.
Around 4ish, he came to pick me up. When we walked out of the shop, I saw a little, unfamiliar red car in the driveway that I initially thought he had bought. And I wasn’t happy about it.
What. Is that?
“Oh, that’s a rental,” he said. “You need to hurry up. We’re going on a trip. Oh, and Charlotte is staying with your parents.”
Charlotte is 17 months old, and I’ve never spent a single night away from her. Not for any reason other than we just haven’t needed to yet.
But the time had come. And I had all of two minutes to prepare for the shock (albeit, tiny) of being away from her all weekend.
I spent the next five to 10 minutes battering him with questions. Where are we going? Cincinnati. How long? All weekend. What about Charlotte? She’ll be just fine. But what if she misses me? She’s not even going to care. But I don’t have anything packed! I packed it all for you. What will Charlotte wear? I packed it all for her. Now, say goodbye, and let’s go!
Confession: I was excited about getting away for the weekend, but the unpreparedness I felt was a little overwhelming, and I was just plain anxious. I overpack for day trips, just in case. What if he forgot something?
I told Charlotte goodbye about 17 times, and a bit reluctantly got in the car. Evan had a few tricks up his sleeve that were crazy-thoughtful, and I felt much more at ease and ready to get away.
Well, except for the lingering anxiety in the form of my face going numb. I have issues, clearly.
We finally made it to our hotel outside of Cincy, and I threw on some makeup and clean clothes, and tried my best to make my hair look publicly acceptable. Didn’t succeed, but whatever.
Evan was rushing me a bit, because he wanted to make it to Lush before they closed so I could buy some bath bombs for the whirlpool in our room. (He chose our room specifically for the tub in the bedroom – how awesome? – so I could relax and take bubble baths. He wins life.)
So I bought a few things from Lush from a dude with pink sparkly nail polish and very large things in this earlobes. It was kind of weird.
Then we went to Cheesecake Factory, because Red Velvet Cheesecake. (Our meal was yummy, too, but seriously. Red Velvet Cheesecake.)
The next morning, we slept in. No baby monitor transmitting “MaMaMaMaMaMa…” from upstairs. No responsibilities. No rush.
We took our time getting up and ready (and by ‘ready,’ I mean pulling my hair on top of my head, and double checking last night’s makeup to make sure I didn’t have raccoon eyes). We had breakfast downstairs, and let me tell you – Hilton breakfasts are the best. It’s what I miss the most about not traveling with Evan for work anymore. Bagels with strawberry cream cheese, potatoes, sausage, yogurt, pineapple, grapefruit juice. That was my plate – I don’t know what Evan ate.
We took our time really getting ready (read: shower, because, necessary), and then made our way to IKEA. On a normal day, the last thing I’d want to do at eight months pregnant is walk around a huge warehouse. But IKEA is my jam, and Evan knew how badly I wanted this specific dresser thing for Jack, so he made it happen.
A lot of waddling, a couple bathroom trips (thanks, Venti Black Iced Tea), some lovely random finds, and a gorgeous three-drawer dresser later, we were packing up the trunk in our little red rental, and plotting lunch.
I can’t remember the last time I went to Panera and didn’t have to shove a kid’s meal down Charlotte’s throat. I don’t think I need to say how fantastic lunch was.
Then, we went to Kenwood. Evan really wanted me to get the Kate Spade diaper bag I’ve had my eye on, but they didn’t have it in store. Boo. I guess I’ll just have to see if anyone wants to buy me the Burberry one now. (Anyone? Hello?)
We shopped a while, hitting up all the kids stores (naturally), daydreamed a little over Surface Pro 3s in Microsoft (Evan) and drooled a little over the Burberrys and Kates and Michaels in Nordstrom (me).
Then Evan sent me to get a pedi. Probably because he was scared of my feet. Can’t blame the guy. It was bad.
Except eight-month-pregnant legs + skinny jeans = ain’t no way those are being pulled up past your ankles.
But it was still wonderful.
I met up with Evan after I was done, and he handed me a Victoria’s Secret bag with a black silk robe that I’ve been wanting before Jack arrived.
I mean, I’m going to be that person right now. My husband is so good to me.
I’m positive I don’t tell him enough or even try hard enough to reciprocate the goodness. I could never come close, I’m sure. He’s a good one.
After the mall, we hit up Potbelly, because he knows how much I adore their sugar cookies. (i.e. When I lived in DC, I’d buy ALL the sugar cookies in stock when I went, just so I could have some for later. They’re that good, y’all.)
We went back to the hotel, and because shopping and physical activity is super exhausting, pregnant or not, we ordered room service. And ate leftover cheesecake. And I took another bubble bath. And then I fell asleep.
And then? Well, then, I slept until 10:30 am.
Ten thirty, people. Like, an hour an a half away from noon o’clock.
Granted, we lost an hour in there, so it was really more like 9:30. But, still. NINE THIRTY.
We laid around and watched TV and played on our phones, because I didn’t have to feed anyone breakfast or change any diapers or continuously change the YouTube video for a certain demanding little toddler.
We packed up all our things, checked out, and headed to Dunkin’ Donuts, where I definitely had two cream-filled donuts and an entire chocolate milk. Healthy living for life over here.
And then we drove home.
And as much as I was happy to see Charlotte (she didn’t care at all about seeing me, thanks to Mom & Dad for buying ALL the Frozen things while we were gone), I was sad the weekend had to be over. It really was so good to get away, even for just a couple days. I didn’t realize how much we both needed that.
I’m going to hang on to the memories from this weekend for the next year. Because that’s how long it will be until we can take a trip, just the two of us, again. Yay, nursing a baby every few hours for the next 365 days!
PS. If you have a good husband, tell him. Often. I don’t say it enough, but I’m going to try.