Oh goodness…it just keeps getting better. No, now don’t start feeling queasy or anything, I’m not about to get mushy. I promise. Although I do love my husband and feel like I’m the luckiest woman in the world, I won’t bore you with all of that. Some guys start V-Day big when you’re first dating and then it falls by the wayside (like other aspects of romance) after you’ve been together for a while. Well, this is the fourth V-Day that Brent and I have spent together…and it just keeps getting better.
Not that he outdid himself. Not that we enjoyed a romantic dinner for two and everything was all hearts and flowers. Here’s what made it special to me…I laughed so hard that I nearly peed in my pants.
Yeah, you read that right. But come on, be honest with yourself…you had to know something like that was coming…this is ME!
I seriously can’t remember the last time that I have laughed as much, as loud, or as long…and my husband made it all possible. Let me tell you about it.
We typically have at least one of the kids on V-Day. Some years, it’s been just T, sometimes just Jenna…very rarely is it just Brent and me. But either way, kids or no kids, Brent goes out of his way to make the night special for me. He always sends me flowers. And he always takes me out to eat. Every single year. And just like the creatures of habit that we tend to be, we always go to the Texas Land & Cattle restaurant. I don’t know why…no, that’s not true. I do know why. It’s one of our favorite restaurants – the food is always good, even if the service lacks a bit…and it’s a little pricier than the normal places that we eat out at (think Chick-Fil-A, Whataburger and Taco Cabana)
So it’s sort of our V-Day place. Rain or shine, cold or hot, kids or no kids, that’s where we go. This year was no different. We knew that we would have Jax and Jenna, so the reservation was made for a party of 3.5. I received flowers, chocolates, a small teddy bear, and a bath set at my office earlier in the day to start the day off right and make me feel special.
We had arranged everything around Jax’s schedule, because let’s be honest here…he’s the most important part of making last night a success or a failure. If he was having a bad night, then we would all have a bad night. And vice versa. Although we didn’t time the commute back to town quite right, and arrived almost an hour before our reservations, we killed some time carefully strolling up and down the aisles of a local grocery store trying to let Jax finish his evening nap. Let’s face it, things go better after a baby gets a nap, right? He woke up right before we were going to walk over to the restaurant and was in a great mood for most of dinner.
I say most, because he’s a baby and he can only be good for so long. Especially not in a high chair when there is so much going on around him. Since it was a busy night, service was a bit slow…which led to a few moments of panic here and there as we wondered if he was fixin’ to start a big scream-fest. I mean come on, if a parent with a small child asks for more bread, do you think that she’s asking for herself? Same goes when she quizzes you about the size of all of your spoons for almost two full minutes, settling on one specific option and has baby food jars on the table…I shouldn’t have to ask twice. You should want to help me keep the peace by providing me with those items right away…but maybe that’s just me.
Either way we had an enjoyable dinner. Everyone got to eat some of their food while it was hot. Jenna only complained a little bit about the “spicy-ness” of her food…problem solved by me trading steaks with her. Jax only started to throw a fit in between jars of baby food when I was trying to snag a few bites of my garlic mashed potatoes. And he only got antsy towards the end of the meal when we were all pretty much done and just waiting for the dessert menu and our bill.
Here’s where the funny parts come in. When he started to fuss a bit, Brent took him out of the high chair and tried to entertain him. Well, it sort of worked. He was entertained up to a point, and then he started to entertain us. At the point when he got tired of Brent’s antics, he started to protest in his baby chatter. When he was ignored he got louder. You see where this is going, right?
He got louder…and louder…and louder. Other people were starting to look around. It wasn’t crying…they were just trying to see what on earth was happening to the child that was babbling so loudly. So to make him be quiet, Brent blew in his face. This had two effects: 1) it did make Jax be quiet momentarily and 2) when he got quiet he was making the most comical face we’ve ever seen him make. Sort of like when babies are first exposed to wind and they freak out a little. Except add in a little “what the hell?” look to it. Less startlement and more “Dude!”. As soon as he recovered because the breath blown in his face was just until he got quiet, the baby chatter came back. Just as loudly as before.
Which triggered another breath to the face. Which was followed by another comical look…you get the pattern, right? Repeat said pattern about a hundred thirty-two times.
Well, pretty soon we (Brent, myself and Jenna) were laughing so hard that the people who had previously been craning their heads around to see what Jax was doing were now looking to see what those crazy fools were laughing so loudly at. And it was contagious. Before long, the table that could see Jax the best was giggling and pointing…and it spread through our entire little area of the restaurant.
Needless to say, we ordered our desserts “To Go” just to make sure that we didn’t overstay our welcome.
And here’s where the peeing in my pants comes in. Keeping in mind that I’m already in a giggly sort of mood from the antics inside the restaurant, we walk outside and head around the back of the restaurant to where we parked. At this point, I ask Brent how his pants were fitting.
Oh wait, let me back up. Remember this post about men losing weight faster than women? Well, it’s still going on. And he forgot his belt yesterday when he went to work, so his pants were…a little…baggy. And by a little, I mean a lot. Think teenage, punk, hipster style…you know the one that I’m talking about…where you purposely wear your best and brightest boxers because everyone’s bound to see them? Got it in your mind? Well, now put my husband’s face on that mental image. And you’ve got the sight that I was walking behind. He’s carrying Jax, I’ve got the diaper bag/purse and Jenna has our leftover bag and in response to my question, he raises his shirt up.
So that I can see that his pants are halfway down his butt, just barely staying up…and his black underwear is showing. Nice. I jokingly tell him that if he’s having such a problem keeping them up then he needs to walk like those young punks that we’re always making fun of walk to keep their pants up.
And. He. Does.
The whole rest of the way to the car.
I had to stop several times for laughing so hard. He’s carrying a baby, walking with his feet spread at least a yard and a half apart, stopping every few feet to yank up his “britches” again…and I lost it. Just way, way, way too funny. I wish that I had thought to snap a picture with my phone!
As I kissed him goodnight that night, I thanked him for the best Valentine’s Day ever. He questioned my sanity for thinking that it was the best one ever, but my answer to him stays the same: “I’ve never laughed so hard and had so much fun on a Valentine’s date before! It was perfect.”
Thanks honey – you’re one in a million!