Uno and Chocolate

When I was little, my family used to play Uno together on a regular basis.  I still love the game and Hugh and I have played it on several occasions to satisfy my I-must-do-something-fun-right-now cravings that have come at hours when anywhere we could conceivably go (except for a couple of 24-hour grocery stores) was closed.  On one of these nights, we decided to make a bet out of it.  Whoever lost the Uno tournament had to take the other person out on a secret date--meaning that he or she had to plan a date without the knowledge of the other and surprise him or her by taking him or her out on it.  (Curse those feminists who robbed us of our neuter singular pronoun!)  I won, of course, and Hugh was therefore obligated to take me on said secret date.  Now, we made this bet a while ago--before we had a child, before we went to China, before I was pregnant, before I graduated last April, and Hugh still hadn't taken me on this date.  After a couple of months, I took to subtly reminding him every so often: "Hey! You still owe me a secret date!"  Alas, this was to no avail, and the months passed.  

Last Thursday, Hugh came home from school and suggested that we go grab dinner somewhere that night.  I was in favor of getting out of cooking, so I agreed.  After getting some other things done, Hugh declared that he needed to run an errand.  So, he left while the burrito and I took a nap.  Hugh returned from his "errand running" with flowers for me.  I thought this was very sweet, but didn't suspect that there was more to come.  We got all ready to go and stopped at the house of some friends because Hugh said that they needed to borrow a tomato.  As it turns out, Hugh had also arranged with them to borrow Asher, and we were therefore able to enjoy a completely baby-free dinner at Goodwood Barbecue.  Not only that, but Hugh had gotten me a new Calvin and Hobbes book to read while I nurse.  Now, lest you feel sorry for yourself because your significant other didn't take YOU on a secret date, I have included a little of Calvin and Hobbes so that you can share in some of the joy.  

Update 6/8/08: Now with actual Calvin and Hobbes!

On Monday, we went to my parents' house to hang out with my family.  We watched a movie and everyone was eating popcorn and chocolate.  My mother had warned me that chocolate and breastfeeding was a bad combination, but a friend of mine said that it didn't seem to make any difference with one of her kids while it did with the other.  I hadn't eaten chocolate for a month and I thought, "oh, why not?"  

I'll tell you why not.  Poor little Asher spent many an hour the next day screaming, which meant that I had the privilege of spending a fair amount of my day listening to him.  I don't mean whimpering or fussing.  I mean purple-faced, top-of-the-lungs screaming.  I desperately needed to go to the grocery store if we were going to have anything besides cold cereal and quesadillas for dinner, so when, after a mid-afternoon feeding, Asher seemed relatively calm, I decided that I had better go right then because it might be my only chance.  I managed to get all of my groceries into the cart without too much trouble, but when I got to the checkout line, the screaming recommenced.  Whenever Asher cries inside of a public place, I am always afraid that he is going to drive everybody crazy and want nothing more than to get him out as quickly as possible so that he can cry in the privacy of our car.  He screamed most of the way home and for a while after we got there. Finally, around 4:00PM, he must have worn himself out because he fell asleep.  

I decided not to put him down, for fear of having to hear more screaming, so we both took a nap on the couch.  By the time he woke up and ate again, most of the chocolate must have been out of both of our systems because he was fairly happy (except for a little of the normal evening fussiness) for the rest of the day.  Of course, there is a chance that the screaming was caused by something else, but I won't be eating chocolate any time soon because it just isn't worth the risk.  I can't imagine having a baby with colic who screams all day EVERY day.  If you have survived colic, you are amazing.  Here is a picture of Asher NOT screaming.  I would have paid a lot of money to see him like this the other day.  I don't have any pictures of him screaming because, 1. they would make you cry, and 2. I was busy trying to get him not to scream.