I woke up at about 5 this morning doing that queasy, prayer thing. Like, “Please don’t let me puke, please don’t let me puke. Maybe if I stay really, really still I won’t puke. Please don’t let me puke.”
It’s like, you know you need to get up and go to the bathroom but are afraid that any movement at all will break down any control you have on the situation.
So I just woke Chris up.
I think I’m gonna need your help.
He got up with me and got me a big glass of ice water even though it meant that he wouldn’t go back to sleep and would start his day earlier than he planned.
And I didn’t even get sick.
He also took the baby monitor out of the bedroom so it wouldn’t wake me up and let me sleep a little longer after Adele woke up.
Once again he’s earned husband/father of the year.
And I’m okay. Still a little queasy and kind of moving slow and wishing I could just stay in bed all day.
But there’s pretty much no chance of that happening, no matter how many episodes of ‘Fireman Sam’ we watch.
|Taken by Sebastian.|