This morning, while I laid on the couch catnapping and nibbling on whatever I could shove down my mouth that came the closest to resembling cardboard (let’s just say that morning and night sickness are in FULL swing the last few days), Scott disappeared into the bedroom for a good 10 or 15 minutes. When he emerged he told me, “Don’t go into that bathroom, okay? Use Kendall’s if you need to.”
I figured he was being a sweet husband, saving me from the residual fumes that could send me into a fit of dry heaves, possibly leading to puking my brains out.
I left shortly after to take Kendall to a birthday party, where I’m quite proud of myself for not losing it all over the ball pit after chasing him back and forth. (The decision on my part to scarf down a whole piece of cake and cup of ice cream was poor, and one I regretted the whole 30 minute drive home.) Scott stayed home, insisting that he would clean the house, which he did. I think it’s starting to sink in that I’m officially a bump on a log (a BITCHY bump, at that), at least for now.
When I came home I asked him if it was safe to use our bathroom yet, figuring it had plenty of time to clear out since I left (and that he had plenty of time to find a plunger if it was something more).
Scott: “No. There’s something in there, and I don’t know what to do with it.”
Me ::widening eyes:: “What?”
Scott: “I don’t know where else to put it.”
Me: “You couldn’t flush it?”
Scott: “Huh? No. It’s for you.”
Me ::totally confused, disgusted, repulsed::
Scott: “I don’t know where else to hide it. I guess I could put it in the closet. DON’T go in the closet, okay?”
Soooooooo…. I really hope that’s some sort of Mother’s Day gift he’s hiding from me. Guess I’ll let you all know tomorrow. Good for him for getting me something before the actual day of Mother’s Day. First time that’s ever happened.
7 weeks pregnant/ Kendall is 2 years old