This post will be short and sweet bitter, and I’m writing it mostly because I feel the need to record my life’s most recent events for my future self. Future self can read this and a) laugh, b) realize she’s had worse weeks, or c) reminisce about the “good ole days” that “seemed so hard.” THEY ARE HARD, OKAY FUTURE SELF??

long hard day

Where shall we begin? In the last 24 hours alone, we could start with the late night trip to the emergency room, or perhaps the living room floors flooding up from beneath the floor boards out of nowhere? Perhaps we can choose the most recent event, being when I backed my car into a tractor trailer this morning? Then again, you may want to hear about the little things, like our porch light breaking, the cracks on my windshield, or our security system alarming for no good reason. Then there’s the delinquent real estate tax bill for $3,000. Oh! And my personal favorite: the impending gloom of my husband about to deploy for 2 months while I’m in the thick of pregnancy.

Reminder: I don’t even get to enjoy a glass of wine through any of this.

Let’s set the scene. Monday, 1 p.m., I am about to finally hop in the shower. I spent all morning on the phone with various un-fun companies, like our car insurance company to set up an appointment for the cracks in my windshield that appeared over the weekend. And the auto repair shop, where we spent about 15-20% of what my husband’s car is worth in order to fix his flat tire and parking brake. Which reminds me, I’m stranded at home because he had to take my car to work. I also had the joy of speaking with a home pest control company, as well as our friends over at home insurance, plus the treasury office of the City of Virginia Beach. Good news: No bugs (yet). Bad news: Still need to set up a coverage plan just in case. Good news: We don’t have to pay the delinquent tax bill. Bad news: I learned that I have absolutely no idea how taxes work.

im dumb

Besides spending $1.89 million dollars on car repairs, most of the calls had gone smoothly, so I was pleased with the productivity level of my morning. Time to hop in the shower and prepare for a video call I had for work at 3 p.m. For those who don’t know/remember/read every detail of all my posts, part of my job is to interview potential talent for TV shows. On Monday, I would be interviewing an adventurer/environmental activist who lives solely off of dumpster diving and foraging the land around him.

While preparing for my shower (i.e. lying down on the bed for 5 minutes while the water heats up, and also because walking up the stairs and stripping took more energy out of me than it should have), I felt our baby boy kick for the first time! I’d felt him move a little here and there over the last few weeks, but while I was lying there pretending not to see the steam emitting from our master bath, little dude kicked me so hard that my hand resting on my belly popped up about an inch. HEY THERE PAL. At least that was exciting!

I took the kick as a sign that even my unborn child was telling me that I stink and need to actually get in the shower, so I took the plunge. My arms often tire from washing my hair (you know my pain, don’t lie), but this shower was rougher than usual. Bending over to shave (overachiever right here) sent sharp pains through my stomach, and I was so exhausted by the end of the 10 minute rinse that I had to sit for another 5 minutes before I could proceed with doing my hair and make up. I was starting to think that maybe walking up the stairs and stripping had exhausted me for reasons other than being fat and pregnant.

normal feels like

By the time I went back downstairs to finalize my notes and questions for the call, my stomach was on fire. It felt a bit like a stomach bug, but I wasn’t getting sick, so I figured the baby just kicked something out of place. I pushed through with the video call, then completed the evening with another successful work call to sign a previous talent I’d pitched. Always worth it to mention the light amid darkness, kids.

Next, time to prepare the house to host my parents for dinner. My husband never gets home from work before 7:30, so I was in charge of getting everything in order for him to throw things on the grill the second he walked in the door. Thank god my parents are low maintenance and didn’t mind snacking on cantaloupe and white cheddar popcorn until we finally sat down to eat at 8:30, nor did they mind that I asked them a million questions about my 401k and public utilities bill, all while wincing in pain every 15 minutes.

That night, I couldn’t sleep because my stomach pain was so intense. After waking up at 5 a.m. to take my husband to the auto repair shop to pick up his car on the way to work, I had a feeling it was going to be a longggg day. Let’s just say that I spent most of it in the bathroom. By the time he got home last night– relatively early for once, at 6:45– I was on the phone with the nurse hotline, being told I may want to take a trip to the emergency room to make sure everything is okay with our baby (21 weeks). Welcome home, honey, we’re going to the hospital!

Literally on our way out the door, I stepped in something wet. We looked down and saw water leaking through our laminate flooring in the living room. WHY GOD WHY.


We lifted up our *expensive* living room carpet, to find it entirely wet beneath. Okay cool, so before we go to the ER, now let’s move our entire giant sectional couch into the kitchen and dining room, lift up our carpet and find a good way to dry it, towel off the water on the floor, and try not to think about the fact that the floor is already curling, meaning we’ll probably have to replace it. Also, let’s pray the house doesn’t flood while we’re gone. We didn’t have time to figure out where the water was coming from since I was unable to stand up straight at this point.

I’ll save you the grueling details, but after driving 30 minutes to the naval hospital, being hooked up to an IV, having to wrap a sheet around my body and hobble down the hallway to the bathroom, having ultrasounds, blood work, and lots of other testing done, we found out that I’m okay. More importantly, Baby is okay. The stomach pains are most likely viral, so I just need to drink Gatorade and wait for it to pass. While this is wonderful news that helps me sleep better, it’s always somewhat bittersweet to spend 5 hours in a hospital for no real reason other than renewed peace of mind.

My poor, sweet, hard-working, loving, and dedicated husband had to wake up at 4:45 this morning for a long day of work after we arrived home at 1:30 a.m. last night to find a small pond on our living room floor. Also to find the house in complete darkness because our porch light had burned out, which doesn’t sound terrible, but is just one more thing we weren’t thrilled about adding to our growing pile of issues. Before going to bed, Aaron managed to find the source of the leak and temporarily stop it from flooding the slab beneath our house, and and even gave our puppy a goodnight belly rub. Someone give this man a gold star.


This morning, while I still don’t feel great, I called our Home Warranty only to find out that since the leak is probably coming from the ice maker in the freezer, they won’t cover it. Also, we are 100% responsible for our ruined floors. And the odds of having this taken care of before Aaron leaves for 2 months is in the negative percentile.

I decided to adult through my pain this morning, so after swallowing the lump in my throat after I hung up the phone with my dad, who I called after the Home Warranty people because dads can solve anything, I took his advice and chose not to fret. We will figure. it. out. But for now, it’s time to do all the dishes from dinner with my parents on Monday night, which were still sitting on the counter, and take Aaron’s uniforms to the tailor so that he has something to wear when he goes out to sea.

Naturally, at the tailor, an 18 wheeler decided to block me and one other car into our parking spots. I did NOT have time for that. Not today. NOT TODAY. I figured I could maneuver my way out of my parking spot if I tried hard enough.

I did not try hard enough.

I managed to back the left end of my car right underneath the truck, which created a glorious scraping sound as I pulled forward to remove myself from beneath it. JUST WHAT I NEED. I got out, assessed the large scrape on the trunk of my car, and pulled away. Screw it. My car has a million scrapes on it already. This one is the biggest, but I just can’t bring myself to care. I can’t.

dead inside

So here I am, laying on my couch in the dining room, writing this and mentally preparing myself to catch up with some assignments for work that I couldn’t do yesterday. My stomach is a tiny bit better (though still super painful), my car is worse for the wear, and I’m still quite concerned about our floors/carpet, plus a little too overwhelmed to deal with the porch light and malfunctioning security system (oh, I didn’t even get into that…just imagine loud beeping in the middle of the night), but I’m alive.

I’m trying not to think about how I haven’t prepared at all for my audition tomorrow night to join the worship team at church, or learned any of my music for a cabaret I was cast in, which begins rehearsals in a week.

I truly hope you all have had a better 24 hours than I have. I also hope you have an adorable puppy that helps get you through even the worst of life woes, a husband and parents who are quite literally perfect human beings, and a spare box of Velveeta shells & cheese in the pantry for times such as these.