It has to be a medical mystery that I ever got married. Just has to be. Cause after you read this you're going to wonder as well. For those of you with weak stomachs feel free to hit that little 'next blog' button up top if it gets too squirly.
Aside from our obvious festivities I talked about here, I have to thank my kids for getting me two, yes two, boxes of Crispy Cream's for me while they were with their father shopping at Sam's. They got donuts for me (read: them) to celebrate. Doesn't everyone celebrate Valentine's day with two boxes of donuts?
Now you can go here and get an idea of what I look like. Yes, I'm skinny. Don't hate me. I sent you off to show you what I look like to tell you how I get that way. You'll hate me less, I promise. Read on...
So I had to honor the holiday and the fact my kids got me (read: them) donuts and I ate one (read: four). Which landed my ass on the can for the whole day because, remember that picture of me? My body does not like anything filled with that much goodness and I had an IBA--irritable bowel attack. All day. All fricking day.
Between kids parties, meltdowns and listening to Martin sing Hello (I'm taking a leap here but I feel we're on a first name basis, what with him serenading me and all) I found myself breaking out in cold-sweats, dodging into bathrooms and damn near passing out whilst busting a gut. Yes, I'm fully aware that my kids may have lost a few friends over this...sorry guys.
All for the sake of donut love.
So there I was, on the can the better part of the day cussing out Cupid, the kids, and mostly my husband for bringing two
I love you dear, it was the best Valentine's ever.
|Seriously, I do have the best husband.|