I felt pukey all night, and right through until this morning. Now, usually when I’m feeling sick in the middle of the night, I turn on my trusty 51″ HD television and try to distract myself with old episodes of “Roseanne” or “Full House”. Don’t laugh, you know you watched it too. SO as the waves of nausea took over my sweating body, I grabbed for the remote on the couch, pressed power and…..nothing.

My cable was out.

Furious, I called the Comcast 800 number, which is a 24-hour service. The automated message (after Ben Stein, which I could’ve punched in his stupid glasses at that point) said there was routine maintenance occurring in my area, and that service could be disrupted due to the work. THEN, it went on to say there was also an outage in my area. Double-whammy. I was pissed to say the least. All I wanted to do was eat Saltines, watch David and Darlene fight, and ignore the ferocious attack that was causing an upheaval in my innards. BUT NO! Comcast had to mess with a fiber optic wire and ruin my date with “morning sickness”, or “horridly late at night sickness” as was the case with me.

I waited..
And waited…
It never came back on.

Woke up at 7. NO TELEVISION. My loving husband wakes up; he had been asleep for a good 12 hours after falling asleep while lying down with the little man at bedtime. He proceeds to go on and on about HOW GREAT I FEEL!!! WOW, I AM SO RESTED! THIS IS AMAZING! I FEEL ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC! I FEEL RESTORED AND REVIVED!! HAVEN’T FELT THIS GOOD SINCE I WAS IN MY 20′S!!

I wanted to rip out his eyeballs and piss down his ocular cavities.

Now, he wasn’t really aware of my condition. All I had said to him was that I didn’t feel good, that I was nauseated all night and the cable was out. He didn’t understand the depth of my fury or sickness. But still, he had an idea. So of course, I had to open his eyes to the situation that I was presently in:

“YA KNOW, I’VE BEEN SICK ALL NIGHT AND YOU JUST KEEP RUBBING IT IN MY FACE HOW F-ING GREAT YOU FEEL!!!! I FEEL LIKE SHIT AND YOU’RE JUST GOING ON AND ON AND ON ABOUT YOUR MIRACLE OF HEALTH AND HAPPINESS THIS MORNING!” I then proceeded to cry, because I’m pregnant and cannot control my emotions. He really didn’t know how to respond. He told me that he wasn’t trying to rub it in, that he was just kinda of talking about how he was doing this morning. After the hormone surge and screaming with tears, I felt a bit better and was able to understand where he was coming from. Papa wakes up every morning barely able to get up because of his horrible back (thanks University of Kansas Football!) He’s always exhausted because he never sleeps well. And half the time, he’s been kicked in the side or assaulted in the armpit all night by our son’s little fingers.

The result was that we kissed and made up, but I made it clear that he needs to not talk about how wonderful he feels until this baby has emerged from my womb. And that he needs to come home with Haagen-Dasz Vanilla ice cream, with a side of Dulce de Leche. All is well with the world now. And I think he left the house realizing that we’ve entered that phase once again in our life:

DO NOT SCREW WITH THE PREGNANT LADY

And never EVER tell her how great you feel. Obviously.

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