My husband is a good man.
He loves me and he is a GREAT daddy. But … he’s a man. I mean, a man’s man. He doesn’t cook, doesn’t clean, and probably would forget to shower for days on end if he lived alone. He rubs his smelly feet on the couch and throws his belly button lint on the kitchen floor. He drinks from the carton and spits toothpaste all over the bathroom mirror.
These quirks are things I love about him, because he’s a very messy person who is complimented by my obsessive-compulsive need for cleanliness and order. However, although I love him and all of his quirks, he still finds a way to infuriate me to the point of wanting to choke him about twice a week.
I had my glucose test on Friday. If you are unfamiliar, this is yet another way the medical field has found to needlessly torture a pregnant woman. You are required to fast for 12 hours, drink a substance that contains 50 grams of sugar, then sit for an hour before they take your blood.
When I was pregnant with ONE I didn’t have anyone with me which was a mistake. I spent the whole time miserable, bored, and feeling sorry for myself. Then I nearly hit 5 people with my vehicle while trying to drive to work.
This time, Husband agreed to take me. He really doesn’t enjoy going to the doctor’s office. It’s boring and he always ends up holding my purse. There are vaginas everywhere. I get it. But I was really grateful for him driving me.
Until he did.
I hadn’t eaten in 15 hours and counting. We got in the car. He informed me he was going to stop and get breakfast. I yelled at him. I told him that was inconsiderate and why on Earth didn’t he eat at home?!
He stopped anyway. He ordered something fancy that contained sausage and egg. They handed him a bag and we left.
It contained: one plain biscuit.
Karma’s a bitch!!! I announced. And all was right again.
Today, I learned that I passed my test. I am not diabetic — not that I ever had any indication that I was. But thanks for that validation anyway, doctor’s office. I celebrated this by going on a sugar-fueled bender … ending with eating an entire BOX of chocolate-covered pretzel “Flipz.”