A Date With Myself

Today I was given a gift. My wonderful husband came home from work with a headache. (That part sucked, but it lead to something fun.) We got the boys down for a nap and Matt wanted a coke to ease the pain (from the headache, not the children- or maybe both). I volunteered to go out for one, and bonus- while I was in the car I could grab a sundae from DQ. I ordered my usual and waited very patiently for my dessert (I had no kids with me- I had all the time in the world). I talked on the phone with my sister while I ate. Alone in the restaurant. By myself. With a bowl of ice cream the size of a sheep's head. I'm sure it was a pitiful sight: a frumpy mom by herself at a table, shoving unreasonably large heaps of hot fudge and ice cream into her eager mouth. I had one ridiculously huge bite after another, after another, until the giant plastic bucket was scraped dry. Part way through the endeavor I realized I'd dropped a bit on my shirt, but I couldn't have cared much less. My once neatly ironed clothes were by this time wrinkled and sweaty (yes, I'm STILL fighting pregnancy hormones, FOUR MONTHS LATER), my hair was flat, wet and stringy due to the rain, my skin was blindingly white, my body overweight, my makeup running, and there I sat, eating my sundae. And you know what? I was smiling.