Thursday, February 17, 2011

My love

I met my husband seven years ago at a Valentines Day dance. I saw him across the room, and I thought he was really good looking, and I thought that my good friend knew him--seeing as how they were standing next to each other--so I went and introduced myself to him. Well, my friend did not know him, but Jeremy asked me to dance anyway. I remember how easy it was for me to talk to him, even though we'd only just met minutes before, and when he called me later that week, I was at ASU walking to my car, and I started jumping up and down in front of the education building. I got some strange looks.

One year later, we'd been married for about four months and I was in the first trimester of my first pregnancy. I was so sick. Sick to the point of losing too much weight, with meds hardly helping. So on this Valentines Day, our first one as a married couple, I woke up early to go do my internship at the junior high for three hours, left that to go straight to work at the optometrists office as a tech for six hours, went straight from that to ASU for a night class I had that went until 9pm, then dragged myself to my car--only having eaten two pieces of dry toast the entire day. When I hauled my sorry self up the stairs to our condo later that night, I barely made it inside before falling onto the ground, crying. I couldn't go one more step that day. My husband, instead of continuing with the romantic evening he had prepared for Valentines Day, picked me up and carried me past the dinner he'd made, the roses he bought, and the candles he lit and just held me while I cried and fell asleep. I love that man.

But Valentines Day is sometimes a disaster in our house, for some reason. It's always because of me, not him. Like last year, he got me the most beautiful flower arrangement. And then while he was at work, I started getting a headache. Then sneezing. And my eyes were watering and started swelling up. I finally figured out that I was allergic to the flowers, so when he came home that evening, he noticed that I was kind of a mess and put his amazing flowers in the garage so that I wouldn't be miserable anymore.

This year, I thought would be different story. I'm not pregnant. We know that flowers are not the best idea. But then, I got this stupid flu bug/cold. And that wouldn't even be so bad, if I hadn't taken the NyQuil. The NyQuil that apparently gives me aggressive dreams. So Valentines Day night, we go to bed, and I have these dreams that people are after me, trying to poison me. I'm spitting out the poison that these bad guys in my dream are forcing me to take, and I wake up with a soaking wet pillow, still spitting. My husband says that I was also hitting him in my sleep, a few landing on his face. (good thing that I am so not strong) That has never happened before. Nothing says happy Valentines Day like that, right?

That is why my Valentines Day post is so late. I'm finally starting to feel better, but I just have to say Happy Valentines Day to everyone out there--to everyone who's been in love and hopes to be in love. Love is just amazing, isn't it?

And Happy Valentines Day to my husband, who is the best husband I could ever ask for. I love you.

My husband and I this past summer in
Washington DC on a rainy day.


  1. Awww.
    What a guy.
    Mine is pretty awesome as well. But, we don't even attempt Valentine's Day. Too much pressure :)

  2. OMG, poor hubby!! Thank God mine doesn't hit me in his sleep, lol.

    Anyway, I'm glad you're feeling better now!

  3. So sweet, yet hilarious!! Thank you for the smiles!


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