What's up, Chuck?
We had our first vomiting incident. I know it’s gross but it’s part of being pregnant so deal with it. To this point, we had only experienced (by we, I mean Tracy) the interminable nausea, as described earlier, so I was in no way prepared for this onslaught.
Brushing my teeth and maintaining a hearty mouth full of foam, I looked into the mirror reminded of Pee-Wee Herman’s mad dog impersonation. Tracy was nestled in bed so I was alone in the bathroom laughing at the trails of Colgate spittle snaking from the corners of my mouth. Alone, or so I thought. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, there was this hideous sounding growl directly behind me. I was startled. Half expecting to see a wild dingo, I jumped and turned around simultaneously, my heart racing like Bode Miller after a six-pack.
Alas, no dingo; only poor Tracy bent over the sink relieving her stomach of the recently eaten apple cinnamon Nutrigrain Bar. The noises sounded painful. I didn’t know what to do so I ran. I ran out of the bathroom traversing the living room all the way to the kitchen. I ran like someone was chasing me. Once there, I had no idea what to do. Standing there, mouth still chock-full of toothpaste spit, my first thought was to boil some water. My second thought was that my first thought was stupid.
I waited for the sounds to subside. When I thought it was safe to return, I cautiously walked back towards the bedroom. I peaked around the corner of the bathroom entrance, like one of the scared survivors of an old west gunfight, peering out from behind the swinging doors of the saloon as the dust slowly settles.
"You ok, Hon?" I offered meekly.
"I don’t think Sally likes granola." She joked. Still maintaining her sense of humor. She is such a trooper.
What do you do in a situation like that? Granted, running like I just kicked a beehive may not have been at the top of most lists. But I didn’t want make her more uncomfortable by standing right there, trying to hold her hair and potentially making, in hopes of injecting some levity, a smart ass comment like "Hey sweetie, let me get the garden hose and let’s see who can spray further."
As originally thought, my presence in the bathroom was not welcomed. She confirmed that the best thing I could do was to leave her alone and be near by in case she needs anything. Her only suggestion was that it wouldn’t hurt to make my exit a little more manlier and a little less frantic.
I think I can handle that.
Brushing my teeth and maintaining a hearty mouth full of foam, I looked into the mirror reminded of Pee-Wee Herman’s mad dog impersonation. Tracy was nestled in bed so I was alone in the bathroom laughing at the trails of Colgate spittle snaking from the corners of my mouth. Alone, or so I thought. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, there was this hideous sounding growl directly behind me. I was startled. Half expecting to see a wild dingo, I jumped and turned around simultaneously, my heart racing like Bode Miller after a six-pack.
Alas, no dingo; only poor Tracy bent over the sink relieving her stomach of the recently eaten apple cinnamon Nutrigrain Bar. The noises sounded painful. I didn’t know what to do so I ran. I ran out of the bathroom traversing the living room all the way to the kitchen. I ran like someone was chasing me. Once there, I had no idea what to do. Standing there, mouth still chock-full of toothpaste spit, my first thought was to boil some water. My second thought was that my first thought was stupid.
I waited for the sounds to subside. When I thought it was safe to return, I cautiously walked back towards the bedroom. I peaked around the corner of the bathroom entrance, like one of the scared survivors of an old west gunfight, peering out from behind the swinging doors of the saloon as the dust slowly settles.
"You ok, Hon?" I offered meekly.
"I don’t think Sally likes granola." She joked. Still maintaining her sense of humor. She is such a trooper.
What do you do in a situation like that? Granted, running like I just kicked a beehive may not have been at the top of most lists. But I didn’t want make her more uncomfortable by standing right there, trying to hold her hair and potentially making, in hopes of injecting some levity, a smart ass comment like "Hey sweetie, let me get the garden hose and let’s see who can spray further."
As originally thought, my presence in the bathroom was not welcomed. She confirmed that the best thing I could do was to leave her alone and be near by in case she needs anything. Her only suggestion was that it wouldn’t hurt to make my exit a little more manlier and a little less frantic.
I think I can handle that.
posted by Derek, Tracy & Calvin | 10:35 PM
4 Comments:
I don't know whether to laugh or cry at this new information!
In my best Colonel Trautman (Rambo)voice.
It's over Johnny!!!
"Nothing is over. Nothing!" (In my best Rambo voice.)
I love the Colonel Trautman mention. Fester gets the reader of the day award for such an obscure reference.
bedbug will agree with me, as bad as the gas near then end is the..."I have to pee. Yes I did go before we left, but I have to go again." You will know where every supermarket, drug store, and mall restroom is located. You will not get on any line with more than one person in front of you, for fear you will have to make a pit stop before the cashier is finished ringing you up. Oh yeah, then there is the being in the last trimester in Florida in August. I did that. You are ALWAYS thirsty, and need a cold drink, which brings us back to go,go,go,go go, oh dear, I have to pee again...
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