A couple of weeks ago my Mom was in town for my oldest kiddo’s Spring Break. It happened to be perfect timing that my nephew was also graduating from Air Force Basic Training a few hours away. I was SO excited. I was able to finally fix my “momalyage” hair (my roots had grown to my ears and my split ends looked worse than Medusa on a bad hair day). I also booked a couple’s massage that I purchased three years ago in a different state as an Anniversary gift to my husband and we never got the chance to use. It just so happened that the only day I could get into these places was, in fact, the same day. It was also the same day we were planning to go to San Antonio for the night-a WHOLE night to ourselves-so we could get up early the next morning for my nephew’s graduation.
My hair appointment was first. Since I’m new to this area, I haven’t seen anyone and just wanted to get my hair done so I looked nice for my date. Everything was going well until the gal realized the dye they used was too runny under the dryer and it didn’t color JUST the front of my hair. She was in a panic trying to fix it and get me out the door in time for my massage. We finally decided that I would just need to come back after the massage and spend about 30 minutes to fix that small spot and be on my way. No problem, these things happen.
I show up to the massage looking like a drowned rat, but what do I care? I’m putting my hair in a messy bun and getting the massage I’ve been wanting for THREE years! And it was fabulous! I go back to get my hair fixed and 30 minutes turns into an hour. The hubs texts me and says we may as well just stay in town for the night and go out since we have a three hour drive. Ladies, do ya’ll know how furious and hurt I was?! Are you kidding?! This whole week I’ve been dying to get away!
After we talk and I cry about my hurt feelings, we decide to go. But because of all the craziness and emotions that I went through in such a short period of time, I FORGOT to pack my breastpump. It doesn’t help that I never really pump, because I’m generally home whenever my baby wants to nurse. And she really only does for comfort these days, so on the days I’m gone for long stretches it’s not too bad for either of us. The bad part about this is that I didn’t realize I forgot my breastpump until later. This is where the story gets good.
So we get to San Antonio, get into our hotel and start walking the Riverwalk in search of food. It’s late for dinner, around 8:00pm. I have a margarita with dinner and we have great conversation. Being alone with my husband put butterflies in my tummy, just like the days we first met. After dinner we decided to hit up an Irish Pub for some drinks. The pub was cool, but ended up being not quite our scene and we were the only ones in there under the age of 50. We had one drink and decided to walk back to the hotel. We are party animals, I tell ya! When we get to the hotel we discovered the bar area is huge and looks really nice, so we go in for a nightcap and more amazing conversation and alone time. I’m not gonna lie…most of our conversations were about the kids and our family. But we are pretty new to this dating thing because I just don’t trust people with my kids, so we could’ve talked about farts and poop for all I cared. I just wanted time with my husband without “Mom! Mom! Look at this! She did this! He slapped me! Mom!”
So in total, I had three drinks. I don’t drink much, but have a good tolerance so I’ll say I was relaxed at best. At this point, I still didn’t realize I didn’t have a breastpump with me or that I would need one. And I didn’t realize it until about..ohhh somewhere around 2 or 3 in the morning when I woke up feeling like someone had put a tire pump into my breast and started pumping. My shirt was completely soaked and I was MISERABLE. OH MY GOSH I DIDN’T BRING A BREASTPUMP!!!!! I took my shirt off, grabbed a towel and tried sleeping on my chest in hopes that the pressure would help relieve my pain and engorgement some. I mean, what else am I gonna do? BTW, it didn’t help.
At 6:00am when the alarm went off for us to get ready and meet my sister-in-law for breakfast, I was completely miserable. My eyes were burning from the lack of sleep, so I clumsily felt around the shower for water as hot as I could stand it. While I worked on manually expressing my milk the combination of the super hot water, three drinks I had the night before, and lack of sleep got me. I started throwing up. What a getaway this is turning out to be!
We didn’t make it to breakfast, but I got my act together so we were in time for my nephew’s graduation. I was glad we were able to be there to support him and his great accomplishments so far. Being a veteran, it was definitely neat to be able to experience a ceremony from the other side and appreciate the hard work they put into it. I also enjoyed a few chuckles about how miserable they probably were, standing so still in formation and uncomfortable in their dress uniforms. Meanwhile, I’m getting engorged AGAIN. Joke’s on me.
After the ceremony we toured their dorm and had to wait for them to be released. YA’LL. It took hours. Everyone is so proud and blah blah blah and I’m over here like “Someone give me your baby so I can nurse!” I looked like Dolly Parton and felt like a balloon that had too much air and just about to explode. We waited three hours before I looked at my husband and said, “Can we please leave right now to get a breastpump?” He must’ve seen the desperation in my eyes, and bless that man’s heart, we left. Thank the Good Lord above, there was a store right off base that had a manual pump. Finally, I got relief.