It's September 25th, a Saturday morning. The windows are open, my Autumn Fruit candle is burning (why have we not figured out how to make scents come through computer screens?), and the dishwasher is running - full of remnants of our evening of Italian food and wine and... bread. So much bread. Thanks to which, all I have in my stomach now, though we've been up since 6AM, is a good cup of coffee, courtesy of a little Bongo Java homebrew. I can't even think of eating breakfast yet, because I feel like I ate my whole Saturday's worth of food from the span of 6PM - 10 PM last night.
I've managed to talk to my mom (who is eagerly awaiting her departure for her first mission trip, to Ethiopia no less), do the dishes, clean the kitchen, vacuum, fuss over my now blank-screened phone, and take a pregnancy test. Yeah, I just put that out there.
It's negative, which for right now is a good thing. Talk to me after the new year begins and I might say otherwise. In the whole span of our marriage, I've taken four - and each with that sense of "Oh my gosh, could this be now?" sort of feeling that creeps in when one... two... three... four days or more passes after what is supposed to be the arrival of every woman's curse. Even if you know it's highly improbable - it lurks in the back of your mind, taunting you with "the only way to know is to pee on a stick". Yeah, I said it.
And then Cliff says, "I peed on a stick once." And I ask, "What?" And he says, "Yeah, it was on the ground... I was peeing outside."
And that's our normal.
I've managed to talk to my mom (who is eagerly awaiting her departure for her first mission trip, to Ethiopia no less), do the dishes, clean the kitchen, vacuum, fuss over my now blank-screened phone, and take a pregnancy test. Yeah, I just put that out there.
It's negative, which for right now is a good thing. Talk to me after the new year begins and I might say otherwise. In the whole span of our marriage, I've taken four - and each with that sense of "Oh my gosh, could this be now?" sort of feeling that creeps in when one... two... three... four days or more passes after what is supposed to be the arrival of every woman's curse. Even if you know it's highly improbable - it lurks in the back of your mind, taunting you with "the only way to know is to pee on a stick". Yeah, I said it.
And then Cliff says, "I peed on a stick once." And I ask, "What?" And he says, "Yeah, it was on the ground... I was peeing outside."
And that's our normal.
2 comments:
that was hilarious!
oh my gosh. how have did i "forget" about this blog! i love your cander (sp?) and transperancy. you guys are great - can't wait to meet the hubby some day. here's to more (or maybe less in a good way) peeing on sticks! :) - ash
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