A Change in the Embarrassment Scale

In high school, I think throwing up on a date would rank pretty up there on the scale of most embarrassingly things that could possibly happen on a date. At least, it would have for me. Times have changed, though.

A couple weeks ago (the same day that Chris cut his hand on the washing machine), Chris helped a friend in the ward remove and then install a hot water heater in their new condo. In exchange for his time and effort, Chris was gifted some money and an offer of babysitting so he and I could go out.

Pregnancy-wise, afternoons are generally the time I feel the best (relatively speaking...), so we opted for a lunch date. I was pretty optimistic because I'd already thrown up, so I was good to go. We dropped the kids off at our friends'...

...and then promptly drove straight home so I could throw up again. I remember thinking that I was really glad that Chris and I have been married for more than seven years and this is our fourth baby, so throwing up is no great embarrassment. It just is.

We went to Red Lobster for lunch. We've never gone before because it's more expensive than we're generally willing to spend on one meal and I don't like seafood. I wanted to take Chris because he loves seafood and never gets any, and he's been great putting up with me being sick forever.

Lunch was delicious. Chris thoroughly enjoyed his lobster tail, I thoroughly enjoyed my side of green beans with my steak.

We were planning to stop somewhere else after lunch, but instead detoured for home. So I could throw up. Because it was just that kind of date.