Before I was pregnant, I started reading a blog written by a newly pregnant woman. She’d just found out she was pregnant, and it was cool to follow her on her new journey.
But I noticed something about her posts. She wrote about poop. A lot. Apparently, when you’re pregnant, weird shit happens. Literally.
And I swore when I was pregnant, I would never blog about poo. Because that’s yucky. And because girls don’t poo.
But you know what? I’m allowing myself one pregnancy poo post. Why? Because it’s funny.
While Kiefer and I were in Greece….
Kiefer: Are you ready to check out?
Thoughtsy: Yep. Go ahead down, and I’ll meet you there.
Kiefer: I can wait for you.
Thoughtsy: Awwww…that’s sweet. But I have to go to the bathroom.
Kiefer: You pee a lot.
Thoughtsy: No. I have to go to the bathroom.
Kiefer: ::blank stare::
Thoughtsy: In the 5 years we’ve been together, I’ve yet to go #2 while you’re around, and I’m not about to start now.
That was me opening the door. Figuratively. Not literally.
I can only pray that I never literally open the bathroom door. After a 9-week ultrasound, this happened:
Thoughtsy: All my clothes are tight. Stupid baby bloat.
Kiefer: You mean all the pooping?
Thoughtsy: What? ::pause:: I have no idea how to recover from that question.
Not often is Kiefer able to catch me unawares. But he did, and I have only myself to blame. But I refused to let him win; I could take him. Not able to come up with something clever, I had only one option: give him too much information.
Thoughtsy: Actually pregnancy makes you constipated.
I thought he might make the obvious “you’re-full-of-it” response, but he didn’t. Ha! I won!
Or so I thought. Once we got home, I started eating a cheese stick.
Kiefer: You know that’s not going to help your problem, right?
Well played, Kiefer. Well played.
Ladies, guys are just always going to be better with the poo comebacks. Don’t fight it. And for goodness sake, don’t open the door.