Date Night? Meet Murphy's Law.

I know this wasn't an option to select yesterday, but I just felt like sharing this story.

First of all, BD is a great husband, y'all.

I won't say that he doesn't get on my nerves and that I don't make him cringe sometimes, because...well, that would be a lie. We're human and, I guess, a pretty typical married couple. We laugh, we fuss, we work as a team. All that good stuff.

So, last Friday, I was wayyy tired. It had been a rough week at work and when I got home, all I wanted to do was crash.

But, here's some relevant history. There's this restaurant I've been wanting to try for a while and then POW! -- there was a 50% Groupon-type deal offered on Thursday so I bought two. I knew I'd want to go back because it's supposed to be that good. I was excited so I asked BD if he thought that maybe we could go over the weekend since, remarkably, we had nothing planned for once. He grumbled something-or-other and we went about our lives.

Well, apparently, he had been planning a night out for us, to this very place, for a while. On Friday night, after Playette finished her dinner, he got her into her pajamas and shoes...wait. Pajamas and shoes? Where were they going? Did that mean I'd get the TV and couch all to myself? WOOHOO!

Obviously, I'm easy to please.

I helped them out the door, totally fine with whatever was going on.

And then he came back. Alone.

Crap. Where'd he leave the kid? And was it on purpose?

He then told me that he had signed up for Parents' Night Out at her school and that we were going on a date.

How sweet, right?

As we drove, I realized that I could think of nothing in this part of town aside from the restaurant of my dreams and I started getting excited.

Right around this exact moment, my phone rang.

I answered.

It was the school.

Apparently, the kid that just was at home playing dress-up and dancing, got there and decided that she's start "throwing up everywhere."

The lady said it just like that: everywhere.

Poor BD. He tried so hard.

He busted a u-turn and ten minutes later, we pulled up at the school.

Playette was inside the room, on a cot, looking pitiful.

I thought about asking for our money back, but it seemed in poor taste since they had just cleaned up my child's puke and all.

I know. I need help.

So, back home we went. Playette seemed ok for the most part. A little tired, maybe.

Perhaps they exaggerated. She couldn't have possibly just been throwing up everywhere. She was fiiiine.

BD and I agreed to a place for takeout, put Playette to sleep on the floor in the office, and I relaxed to read a few more pages of PNT article comments.

It was making out to be one rocking Friday night, y'all.

And then I heard it.

A cough?

Another one?

Let me go check.

You know what I found, right?

Puke. Everywhere.

My poor baby.

That went on for a while.

Her eyes kept rolling back in her head and she would slip in and out of sleep. It was a mess.

BD finally came back with the food.

I had lost my appetite by then.

And, inside my head, I was freaking out about how I would have handled this sitch with another little one also needing me. EEK!

BD let me pull the pregnant lady card and I went up to bed while he stayed downstairs and woke up every hour or so with El Sicko.

It was pretty gross.

But he tried to give me the night out I wanted.

And I love him for it.