Last night I thought it would be a good idea to drink a glass of wine with my egg salad sandwich. I don't normally drink wine with egg salad, or even with dinner...I only drink it rarely, and usually that's because I'm at my mom's house and they are having a glass because she made spaghetti for dinner.
I only ended up having 1/2 a glass.
But I'm such a freakin' lightweight that 1/2 a glass was enough to do me in!
Apparently I passed out on my chase somewhere around 3-4pm...right after my sandwich and wine...and didn't wake up until 9:45! Yikes. By then, the kids were in bed and I could hear Steven downstairs putting dishes in the dishwasher. I needed a snack so I tried calling him, because I had been in the same position for those 6-7 hours and could not move at all. I remember calling to him, but he couldn't hear me, and I didn't want to yell too loudly and wake up the little angels. So I thought if I yelled out something funny, that THAT would get his attention...
ME: "Help! I'm your baby mama!"
*That is when I realized I was drunk.
**No response from Steven.**
ME: "HELP! I'm your THREE TIME baby mama!"
He finally came upstairs and (later said) he found me lying there with my arm up in the air like I was waiting for the teacher or someone to call on me. We then decided I needed the Baskin Robbins Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream that was in the freezer.
Right choice? You decide.
The next thing I remember is that I was in my bed, no longer on my chaise lounge, and I was in the early stages of vomiting. Like, it had made it to my mouth. I immediately sat up trying to stop it, and noticed that if I did end up barfing, it would be all over Steven's neck and face. Somehow or other, I was actually able to choke it back down and it stopped. Then I sat up for the rest of the night.
And THAT, my friends, is how much I love my husband!