Mark and Jenn’s wedding was all set for July 2010. Until by the grace of God, He made their due date the first week in August 🙂 And with that, Mark and Jenn’s wedding was all set for this past weekend. Dave and I were actually quite excited…. For one, they are good friends of ours and are joining the ranks of being a married couple with children, an exclusive title that we do not get to share with many of our friends. And two, the wedding was IN VERMONT… ON A SUNDAY.
Dave and I took this as the perfect opportunity to hand Owen off to his more-than-willing Nana and take a much needed mommy and daddy retreat to the mountains. This would be the first time in six months that I would not be awoken by a crying baby who wants to eat in the middle of the night, the first time that I would be allowed to sleep as late and as long as I deemed necessary. The first time that my hubby and I would have complete, uninterrupted alone time.
We dropped Owen off bright and early Saturday morning. I shed a few tears, reminded him how much I love him and promised that I’d see him very very soon (probably trying to convince myself more than him), and we headed on our way.
The ride up was amazing, every great road trip starts with Starbucks and this was no different. The scenery on the way up was great, and we stopped at the Long Trail Brewery for lunch and some fresh beers. We made it to the hotel late afternoon and of course proceeded to immediately do the nasty because Dave cannot keep it in his pants past getting through the door whenever there is a bed in sight. Dave followed that up with a nap, while I read up on some trashy gossip in the new issues of People and Us Weekly. That evening we stopped in to see the bride and groom at a little family get-together then headed off for a romantic dinner on our own at a quaint little vermont inn. We were back in the hotel by 10, and I think asleep by 10:30. Pure bliss.
Sunday morning I was so happy to awake on my own at 7 am. We headed down to breakfast, got some free fatty deliciousness, then headed back to bed… yup, really. A little later we did the nasty in the shower, I painted my toenails, and we laid around some more. Then headed down to the bar for another great meal, and played some pool to pass the time until we had to get ready for the wedding.
The wedding was beautiful. I always get choked up at weddings now. I anticipate the happiness and excitement that the bride is feeling just like I did on my wedding day. And you could just see it on her face. She truly was so happy to be marrying the man of her dreams. She looked gorgeous in her mom’s wedding gown, tailored to flow around her adorable growing belly. She glowed the whole night, and did WAY better than I would have if I was not able to drink at my wedding. They saved finding out what the sex of the baby is until that night… Her aunt was the only one who knew, and baked the cake blue to let the happy couple, and everyone they love, know that they’ll be having a little boy!! It was so amazing.
We left the wedding at about 11 pm and headed right up to our room which was literally just up a flight of stairs. So convenient. We fell right asleep and I was so happy to get another uninterrupted night of rest. I was happy, until 2 am, when I woke up with pains in my stomach that could rival labor, and nausea I would only wish upon an enemy. Fast forward to what seemed like days hours later…. hours of exploding from every orifice of my body. At times laying on the bathroom floor, at times laying in bed. At one point thinking I was doing better, only to be surprised by pooping myself. “You didn’t think we were through?” teased my belly.
You all know that feeling… the feeling were you have no control over what is going on. You’re bum on a toilet, your face in a trashcan, begging God to make it be over. Around 5 am I was able to get back in bed, thankful that I was feeling well enough to fall into somewhat of a slumber. And successfully slept until 8.
Up right at 8 and heading right out the door to go home. Dreading a 3 hour drive after a night of endless expulsions. I found no dumpster or outdoor trash bin, so we left the hotel room as clean as we could, but bearing one giant bag of vomit, closed tightly within another, hoping the maid only needed to empty it effortlessly into a bigger bin, rather than grabbing the knotted up bag with her own hands to carry its unknown contents to the hall. To you, dear cleaning lady, I am sorry. I was not drunk, and I am not malicious. I made an attempt to save you from dealing with it, I really did, and I hope the tip we left you was enough to help you get over the emotional distress I have caused.
So, I am happy to say that Mark and Jenn have made that baby legitimate, and I know they are going to be an amazing married couple, and amazing parents. That bag of barf however…. could have done without it on my vacation.
Side Note: To pre-empt all of your conclusion jumping, I am not preggers 🙂 Though this is the 3rd week in a row that I’ve been dealing with debilitating nausea, I can confirm there is not another Bratton on the way (though of course the thought crossed my mind as well)