Puke and other delightful things.

My husband and I have been together since I was 15 and he was 16. After nearly a decade together, we're pretty comfortable with one another. I think this is a good thing, personally, but it's also funny. I say 'funny' because my husband works some pretty crazy hours. Especially lately, our time together has been very scarce (i.e. we only saw one another last night because he came home from work past midnight as I was up urinating for the five hundredth time). Our conversations thus look a lot like this lately: HIM: "How are you feeling?" ME: "I think I've peed five times in the last hour." As my first trimester continues on and on with it's queasy, sickly glory, our conversations have also evolved: "I vomited so much this morning, it was sick." "I didn't vomit today, but I had some wicked diarrhea."

I mean, right, it only makes sense that the few minutes we get to talk lately should be consumed with talk about bodily functions and how many times I went to (and what I did in) the bathroom. And I think that's "funny." But in a "isn't life funny?!" kind of way. I remember when I was 15 and he came over for the first time, I hid the toilet paper in my bathroom because I didn't want him to know that I peed at all (because apparently urination is SOOOO embarrassing!). Now I'm just waiting for him to call so I can tell him how I just vomited my lunch all over my mom's bathroom.


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Not that anyone really wants to discuss food after my beautiful post about vomit and excrement, but I think I'm keeping this place in business lately with my must-have pregnancy cravings:



I should have known something was up pregnancy-wise when I started craving tacos in the middle of the night. I blamed it on PMS. But, man, those cravings were fierce. I kid you not -- last night, I was literally up from 1-2 in the morning because my desire to consume tacos was so fierce that it kept me up all night. Today, my mom ran me by Lime to pick up my tacos which were delicious and hit the spot -- until my afternoon-sickness kicked in and I promptly vomited them in her bathroom. But, oh man, were they good going down. They didn't feel so good coming up, though.