tHe FonduE faMily: it Ain’T purdy . . .

(And yes, I’m writing about 3 1/2 months ago)

When we got back from our trip, I had the wonderful ~~pressure~~ pleasure of trying to make a monumental birthday in my hubby’s life feel monumental, even with the following obstacles:

We’d just had Christmas.

He’d already picked out his Christmas/Bday gift, and it was hanging in his office where I couldn’t wrap it!

We’d just gotten back from Disneyland, which was supposed to be more of his present. (And Christmas, and anniversary, and just for fun. But also hard to wrap)

We were sick of eating out.

I was exhausted.

I was prego.

I had a killer sinus infection, and kinda wanted to check out.

I had 2 days after we got home til the big day.

So, wanting to make the big day special, but not wanting to annoy everyone (us being some of the last to turn 30 within friends and family) and also wanting to leave something to be desired for 40 (right around the corner Smile ), I settled on having friends and family who cared about D write something to him.

I let the project take form all on its own, by leaving my request to loved ones very vague, and reminding them that no one was forcing them to participate.

Letters, lists, songs and stories poured in via email from 22 different people in D’s life, while I behaved like a special agent during our Disneyland trip by moving them all to folder “Project XYZ” and deleting all suspicious calls and texts the moment I received them.

I also arranged for all of our nearby relatives (my sister’s family, his 3 brothers’ family’s and both his parents) to meet us for dinner at Pepper Belly’s the day after his actual birthday for a surprise, all while still in the happies place on earth.

Thursday, his actual birthday, he had to work in Pocatello.

But not before receiving the traditional birthday breakfast in bed, and my next surprise, Bryan Regan tickets, which I also obtained secretly.

And again, I had worked under cover, this time with my sister, to arrange for a public display of this important day which he saw before he left town for work.

I wanted to surprise him with a massage after his long drive home, but he couldn’t promise me an ETA until he actually left Poky.

I frantically began calling every spa on his way home, and none of them had availability . . . except for a certain one.

I was very relieved when I found it, even though I’d never heard of it before.

Until the man on the other end of the line said anxiously, “And how did you find out about me?”

“Uh, Google?” I told him.

After we hung up, I immediately called Big D and reported to him, “The good news, is that I scheduled a massage for you. The bad news, is that there’s a good chance it will be performed by a man.”

D got very uncomfortable and I proceeded to try and coerce him that it should be just fine.

Ten minutes later, I received a phone call with him giggling and the words, “I couldn’t do it.”

Apparently, this man in a vacant upstairs office looked as though he may have ulterior motives, so D made up an excuse about having a meeting his wife couldn’t possibly have known about.

To which this massage therapist replied, “Dude, I’m not gay.”

And the awkwardness pretty much escalated at that moment.

Needless to say, D had to wait til the following morning for his massage from a refutable spa.

And a woman. (men and their insecurities)

In fact, I was kind enough to let him use one of mine (he got me one for each month until Dday, with a few to spare for Christmas).

That evening, I let him believe we were going out to dinner with his parents (including his pushy mother, who picked the place) for his bday, when in actuality, his surprise “party” was there waiting, complete with his favorite, “better than anything Smile cake” that I had made that day.

I also presented him with his “book” of letters.