Curses

Less than 48 hours after Himself and I got married, I left on a nearly three-week business trip that had me jetting from VA to CA to Florida. I was gone all but three weeks of our first three months as a married couple. For the next year, I continued to travel extensively - 8-15 days a month, on average, 7 or 8 months out of the year.

So it really is Himself's turn to go away on business trips to exotic (ha!) destinations, dine at new restaurants, schmooze with complete strangers, and sleep in some anonymous hotel room.

Except, when I was doing it, I left Himself to look after our cat, Rameses.

My payback is I get to play single parent to a toddler - which is more than fine. Woodstock is a lovely toddler and it's really only like playing single parent for a couple of hours a day anyway. Not a big deal. Plus, we get to eat pasta for dinner and we get to eat all of the blackberries I bought by ourselves, because they certainly won't be good when Himself returns at week's end.

However, I seem to be cursed to fall apart physically when Himself takes his (now) monthly business trips. I had felt like the typical lousy pregnant woman over the weekend - the "morning" (code word for "all day") sickness keeps rearing it's ugly head and anything other than sweats hurts my now very tender, VERY bruised mid-section. But yesterday was new ... I woke up with stabbing abdominal pains and all manner of digestive protestations. We'll leave what could be a very colorful (and gross) description at merely that.

I dropped Himself off at the airport, then ventured to Happy Valley to celebrate my mom's birthday with her family (my mom and sister were in town for the weekend). I managed to get through the lunch without eating more than a few bites and therefore saving myself (and others) from any mid-meal bathroom dashes.

I bid adieu to the family, then drug Woodstock (half asleep) to one of those department store having crazy sales to look for cold-weather gear for her for next season.

On the way home, I was struck with absolute searing pain and narcolepsy and had to pull over in a grocery store parking lot to sleep for 40 minutes (Woodstock, fortunately, was also napping) in the car. I awoke to Woodstock saying "Mommy! All done! Woodstock all done!" As much as I wanted to sleep for another month, Woodstock was not about to let me - something about being strapped into a carseat for half the day.

I made it home, fed Woodstock leftovers and collapsed.

I woke up this morning with the digestive issues at a slightly duller roar, searing pain still alive and well. At least I've kept down cereal, but liquids are another (strange) matter.

Just like last time - fine until the day Himself leaves, then WHAM! some sort of ailment hits me out of nowhere.

Friday cannot come soon enough. Or, maybe I should just be realistic and say August. I'm really looking forward to August.