When I was pregnant last time, I threw up several feet away from a toilet, and Logan has never let it go. "The toilet was right there! You couldn't have made it there in time???" Despite his complaining, he cleaned up my mess and gave me a glass of Sprite. Because he's awesome. (And in my defense, I was making my way to the toilet, but sometimes it comes faster than you're expecting.)
Well, it happened again. One of the churches we frequently attend served hot dogs after mass, and I just knew I shouldn't eat one. But heck, I'm pregnant. So I ate half of one. Everything seemed to be okay.
And then I got home and tried to take my huge prenatal vitamin. And it actually went down on the first try (which is a miracle these days due to my lovely gag reflex), but then I coughed. And I said, "Oh no." Then before I knew it, that hot dog (plus whatever else in my stomach) was all over our kitchen floor.
I wish I was kidding. The whole reason I'm even telling you my puke stories is because Logan was going on and on about how he's "going to blog about this" and I figured if I beat him to it - which isn't hard, considering he hasn't written anything in a loooong time - it'd be less embarrassing for me.
I do have to say that once again, Logan picked up my mess. And he just thought it was so funny how he opened the refrigerator door and then closed it, and in that time span I managed to make a mess of the entire kitchen.
Yep, that's how I roll.
On a more serious note, I would totally appreciate any prayers that I can actually keep down my dinner, because this seems to be happening more frequently (and I swear every other time I've made it to a toilet). I feel bad because I know I'm supposed to eat healthy, but most days I feel like crap, and then throwing up my dinner certainly doesn't help. Hopefully this will only last for a couple more weeks...