I am 9 months pregnant with my second child, Caleb (as I type this I notice a trend...), and for some reason (shockingly) I was alone in the house with little Noah, who was just under 2 years old at the time. Before I go on, let me just tell you about my precious Noah: He has the ability to frab (in consideration of Sandi, we will just use that word instead of barf) at the worst possible moments.
So, it is 9:00 at night, and Noah had, for whatever reason, frabbed. In order to save the carpets, I positioned myself to be a human sacrifice. Completely grossed out I stripped myself of all the clothing and dumped them straight into the washing machine. (side note, the washer and dryer are located right beside the front door of the army housing where we lived...GREAT design plan. really.)
Anyway, (of course, my luck!) so happens some person knocks on the door just as soon as these events occur... I had absolutly no intention of answering the door, and (thank the good Lord) pulled my just washed non-maternity robe out of the dryer...when I see Noah fling open the front door to reveal my male neighbor. Panic arises in my throat at the awkwardness of him seeing me in my robe...but I assure myself that it is him who should feel awkward for obviously interupting me at a bad time...and BESIDES my robe almost touched the ground, so I was covered, right? (Please insert the rolling of my eyes at this moment.)
I calmly greet him, while keeping my arms folded over my chest to ensure there would be no gapping of the robe (because we MUST be modest, right ladies?)! He just stands there and looks at me with an expression on his face that cannot be classified with words.
He looks at me.
I look at him.
Finally he askes me if this is a bad time, and I respond with some generic answer, beginning to get annoyed that he is acting so weird and taking up my time. I see his face getting red and he mumbles something about coming back later. Totally annoyed now, I close the door, gently scold Noah to never open the door again, and walk upstairs to take a shower...only to be greeted with my reflection in the full-leangth mirror. And my friends....I now understood this poor (now scared) man's facial expression. My non-maternity rob did a GREAT job of covering up my chest. However, everything belly and below was WIDE open. Let me just tell you...it was NOT pretty. To those people that say when a woman is pregnant, that is when she is sexiest...liars! Trust me, there was nothing "radiant" or "glowing" about me at this moment (unless you count the reflection of the bathroom lights on my stretch marks!)
I totally lose it and call my husband in hysterics. I explained what happened and this is how he responded:
"Whoa...and I know you haven't even shaved you legs in like a month. Rough."
Just poor lemon juice on my paper cut, why don't you?!
...and so began my therapy.
6 comments:
I nearly "frabbed" by laughing so hard at this post. You poor, poor thing -- with this being only #9, you must have had some real doozies. Can't wait to read more!
I see a trend here. . . showing body parts to men in uniform . . . hahaha
Glad you like the word frab - that's code around our house, it is barf backwards.
Heather you are way to funny my friend!
Kara Baggett
Amanda gave your blog a shout out on hers & oh my gosh she was right this story is way too funny.
It got me thinking about my most embarrasing moments.....I have a few doozies but I'm not sure any hold a candle to showing my pregnant self to neighborhood men.
you, my friend, are hilarious...i've already said it, i don't think i can take the ones around 1 and 2. OMG!
I just about wet my pants reading your blog tonight. Thanks for the much needed laugh! You are a "hoot" as my grandmother would always say.
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