Gee, this is starting well ...

Lord, grant me the strength to change what I can, cope with what I cannot, and the wisdom not to strangle DH in the meanwhile ...

First, let me say I was clearly medicated, and therefore not in my right mind.

Yeah, right. And the Twinkie defense is believable too. Of course, perhaps if I had eaten a Twinkie, maybe I could have avoiding the entire episode. You know, the miraculous healing powers of Twinkies. Yes, Virginia. In the absence of chocolate, a Twinkie will do.

First, let us get this out of the way: I am a horrible, self-centered person. How I ended up with DH, a true near-GAM, I do not know.

And just how does DH not reach the pinnacle of all that is good, full GAM status? He doesn't read minds. Which, of course, is central to our story, which I really am getting to.

*sigh*

For New Year's Eve, DH and I were invited to his aunt's house in Illinois. This aunt is his father's sister, and DH has been estranged from his father's side of the family for about fifteen years, since his parents' divorce. Let's just say there is some serious Jerry Springer stuff that I won't go into here. The aunt who invited us, also estranged from DH's father, is making some serious efforts to extend the olive branch and try to mend rifts between the innocents in the whole picture. DH turned down her invites in the past. He accepted this one.

All noble efforts aside, spending New Year's Eve in a house full of people I don't know, two hours away from home, wasn't something I was really looking forward to. But since this was a major deal for him, I said OK.

OK, this is where I was a bad person. I secretly hoped for bad weather. Naturally, we had some of the warmest weather on record. Heck, there was even a distant thunderstorm that temporarily knocked out the lights (small towns - you sneeze and the lights will go out). All in all, not bad weather-wise.

And because I am a bad person, God decided I was going to have a migraine. I hadn't had a migraine in almost two months. I even took my medicine before it went full-tilt. No dice. So we are heading out to Illinois, my migraine is swelling up, and suddenly, I felt horribly car-sick. I can't even remember the last time that happened. There I am, spacey from the meds which haven't killed the pain yet, migraine trying to decide if it is going to split my head in two, and car-sick from the war between the two, mentally chanting to myself, "c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, kick in already, I will not be sick, I will not be sick ..."

DH said to me, "Um, are you ok?"

Me: "Fine. Why?"

Apparently my eyes were the size of dinner plates and my input into our conversation was a little out there.

DH pulls over. "You don't feel good, do you?"

"It's a migraine. I'll be fine once the medicine kicks in."

DH turns around and heads back home. "Well, I don't want to force you to go if you don't want to."

Well, great. Now he's all fissy and blaming me for not feeling well (warning: major hot button between us). "I said I'll be fine."

DH turns around again. "Fine."

Me: "Fine."

DH turns around once more, heading back home. "I hate it when you do this."

Me: "Did I ask you to turn around? No. I didn't want to ruin this because this was your deal. I took my medicine. I should be fine. (A pause.) Maybe it would help if we got something to drink."

DH turns around again, once more towards Illinois. "OK."

DSS suddenly chimes in from the backseat, turning off his MP3 player. "Whoa, dude. We like passed that house three times. Are we lost?"

"Nope. Just taking the scenic route." And tin-sounding music began to blare from tiny ear pieces again.

The rest of the trip was better. We had to stop again because I needed to go to the bathroom. I swear, if I ever find myself pregnant and have to pee any more than I already do, I'm just going to have to go straight to Depends. On the way out, I grabbed Zingers, donuts and Fritos (the chili Fritos were for DSS, the rest was for me. OK, yes I shared with DH). Ah, junk food bliss.

Finally, we arrived. His aunt and cousin were very nice, very laid back and lived in a gorgeous old Victorian home with these beautiful ornate radiators and a fabulous wrap-around front porch. Oh, yeah. And they smoked. Cigarettes. My A-1, Numero Uno, Grade A trigger for migraines.

For the most part, I managed to avoid the smoky areas, but you know how smoke is. It's in the wallpaper, in the furniture, it's everywhere. Still, I managed. My SIL and her brood was there, plus a few other family kids. Nothing quite like a mob of deranged wild children stomping through the house, hooting and hollering. Still, I was OK.

Then they started setting off the fireworks outside. And my eye began to twitch. My head began to throb. And then the kids, the smoke, the bright lights, the blaring TV and all the noise made me suddenly really wish I was home. I don't do misery well. No matter how much I try to push through, I usually end up crying like an over-tired five-year old. And I was getting perilously close to that point.

Let me just say I really love his aunt's house. It's soundproof. They sent the kids somewhere else to play (the dungeon? the cellar? Timbuktu?) and my MIL turned off the overhead light (bless that woman). DH curled up on the couch with me while the latest batch of Advil/Tylenol worked its magic. I wasn't going to jump up and dance the Watusi anytime soon, but it was better. The aunt has a most excellent couch too.

I dozed off and on a bit and then woke up at midnight just in time for all the kids to pop their little confetti cork popper thingies. Oh yeah, midnight their time. Illinois is on Central time. Our little home in Indiana is on Eastern. Argh. I really must be an ungrateful wretch because even after all the niceness, I still thought to myself, "WTH??! We are still here?"

I know. Nice. We got home at 3:30 AM. Thankfully, I was in a near-coma by then, thinking I'm getting too old for this crap. And we didn't even drink. At the very least I was saved from another occurrence of my Foot-In-Mouth disease.

How DH manages to put up with me, I don't know. Of course, I'm still not entirely certain why we stayed for eight hours when I was obviously was un-well ...