So… I made a dumb decision this morning. But let’s rewind to Sunday, when my SIL, BIL and niece came over for dinner. I made fish tacos accompanied by a TON of “fiesta” quinoa, and we had leftovers coming out our ears.
We’ve been slowly eating them for the past few days, and there were two portions left after we ate dinner last night. I decided I’d turn the leftovers into a delicious salad – one for Kyle, and one for me. I was very excited about the lunches.
The catch: I put the sour cream and salsa in a separate container so the greens wouldn’t get soggy. But those condiments were essential – without them, the salad would be dry and bland. And I just knew that Kyle was going to forget that separate container when he left for work today.
I was right. Obviously.
As I was finishing up my shower, I heard him start up his car to warm it up. He usually comes back in for his bagel and coffee while the car is warming up, but I knew my time to catch him and remind him of the small container was limited. So I jumped out of the shower, dried myself off, wrapped myself in my towel and ran out to the kitchen. He wasn’t there. But I heard the car.
I grabbed the small container out of the fridge, slipped on my shoes, and ran outside… still wrapped in my towel. He was pulling away, and didn’t see me. I was too late. So, naturally, I tried to chase after him.
And then I fell.
I tripped and fell, naked, onto our gravel driveway. My towel went flying. I scraped my knee, elbow, and hand. And Kyle still didn’t have the most delicious part of his lunch.
So I cursed, tried to cover myself up with the towel, thanked my lucky stars that it was pitch black outside so no neighbors could see me (if they had happened to be looking out their windows at 7 AM), and ran back inside to survey the damage.
I was covered in gravel. My newly washed towel was very dirty. Blood was dripping down my knee and elbow from wounds I couldn’t see through the gravel that was embedded, and the palm of my hand stung.
But was I concerned about that? NO! I still wanted to make sure Kyle had a good lunch. So I did what I should have done in the first place – I called him (duh). And then I hopped back in the shower to wash all of the gravel out of my flesh. Kyle ultimately came back and got the container of sour cream and salsa. And when he saw me bleeding from three separate wounds, he looked horrified.
Only then did it occur to me that I’m pregnant and probably should have been worried that I fell. Up until that point, I thought it was rather hilarious that I had run outside naked to try to “save my husband’s lunch experience”, only to fall and cut myself. I had even texted my mom and a couple friends to share the hilarity… because if you can’t laugh at yourself, what is the point of living?
Anyway.. my mom was very concerned about the baby. Which made me very concerned about the baby. And here we are, halfway through the day, and I’m still waiting for an unmistakable baby kick to confirm that Baby Boy is still, well… kicking. But I’m psyching myself out and convincing myself that everything I feel is actually just a gas bubble. Even though I know by now what a baby kick feels like.
Moral of the story: Pregnant or not, you should not try to chase down a person in a car on foot. Cars are fast. If you need to talk to the person in the car, call them.