The anniversary actually turned out ok. We got super yummy Italian food from this little place across the street. It’s not the sort of place we usually eat at. It definitely has that parental, or maybe even grandparental sort of vibe. Throw back is putting it mildly. There are generally a couple of fat, old Italian guys just sort of standing around by the bar talking in really hushed tones. I always expect them to say “forget about it,” and then whack somebody during the antipasta. So far it hasn’t happened, but we haven’t really been in since before the baby was born.
Anyway, I got some extra cheesy manicotti, which my son ended up eating nearly an entire tube of. I couldn’t believe how hungry he suddenly was. For the last week or so he’s reverted to drinking most of his meals (not unlike some of my friends) and clamoring for jarred baby food, which put me in a bit of a pickle since I’d stopped buying it in favor of raviolis and chunkier finger foods. But last night he broke the mushy madness and chowed down.
Not only was he eating happily, but I ordered my husband and I a piece of chocolate cake to share. It alone would have been tasty, but he popped in the kitchen and whipped us up some fantastic fresh whip cream. It made the cake.
We played with our son for about twenty minutes until we put him down for bed. He went right to sleep. We didn’t hear a single peep. I decided the grading could definitely wait one more day, so we cuddled up on the couch to watch an episode of MST3K–Wild Rebels. It was hideous, as expected, but boy did I get a kick out of it. Nothing like poor acting, fake blood and “Satan’s Angels” to complete an anniversary.
My husband got me a lovely journal and a gift card for a massage. Two things I LOVE.
I still had to chug NyQuil and dose myself with nose spray, but all in all, it was a pretty good anniversary.