Valentine's Day

What a blast I had trying to plan a special weekend for my husband David, a Valentine’s Day baby. 

I was in cahoots with Lauren, his daughter, who wanted to come home from New York City to surprise her dad for dinner. The fact that she reached out to enlist my help made this suggestion a most welcome proposal in and of itself, once we’d iron out the details.

Her plan to set foot in Cherry Hill around 7:30 pm on Friday night to begin celebrating was a tricky component; on a typical Friday we could be getting ready for bed by then.  That is a slight exaggeration, but not by much.

Her stepdad was kind enough to agree to pick her up at the train station and bring her home, since David prefers to steer clear of any restaurant’s Valentine’s Day madness.

My job was to delay mealtime at home with the hope that we could all sit down together for dinner when Lauren arrived.  If I were to return from work at my usual time of about 5:30, for example, David would expect we’d be sitting down to dinner by 6, especially on his birthday.  How could I prevent this from happening?

I managed to weasel my way out of this by conjuring up fairly acceptable excuses by David’s standards.  Instead of my leaving work at 5 as he was hoping, I texted him about 5:15 saying I’d need to stay till 5:30 or 6 to finish up; when he asked for an updated time of my arrival a half hour later, I told him I just remembered I have to pick up a few items for dinner; when I got home around 6:30 and he said “I’m so hungry! Let’s eat!” I told him I’m way too tired to sit upright without taking a short nap first; when he texted me a half hour later to ask when we’re having dinner, I had to say I’ll be down soon but I’m more tired than I even realized. 

Meantime Lauren texted me that her train was stuck behind a disabled train which translated to my having to further dilly dally around the house.  I actually managed to keep David from the dinner table till 7:45, which I found quite impressive – that, and my not spilling the beans, which was even more remarkable.  I was just having so much fun with this undercover mission.

But the real reward came when our Shea doggy started barking as the door opened - followed by David not knowing whether he should panic with a potential intruder, hearing Lauren call out "Happy Birthday, Dad!" and then seeing his facial expression turn to jubilation.  He really did say, without a spoken word, that her coming home on this particular day was too good to be true.

I told myself earlier in the night that I’d shed no tears – I’ve been working on trying not to be quite so emotional – and I did well until I turned around at one point and saw her leaning over and hugging him in his chair. 

Then all bets were off.