Rough

Julie might have one of those pregnancies where morning sickness lasts the entire nine months. We're at the 16-week mark, and this morning was the roughest yet.

You need a little context. Normally Julie's work schedule is relatively reasonable, with no meetings before 8:30. But today she had a meeting at 7:30 in Brooklyn Park, well north of her usual office in Minneapolis. This meant getting in the shower at 5:45, where normally she wakes up at 6:00, snoozes until 6:20, and lies on the couch until 6:45.

We had a plan. I woke up at 5:15, preheated the oven to 450 degrees, shaved, exited the bathroom and put hash browns in the oven, showered, removed hash browns from the oven (literally 20 seconds remained on the timer when I exited the shower), and served to pregnant sicky on the couch at 5:41.

Six minutes later, she threw up in the shower. Never made it to Brooklyn Park. She did go to work later, but everyone knows that a morning vomit session in the shower eliminates any possibility of a good day.

This evening, after serving her an inspired plate of butterscotch-chip pannercakes and bacon, I requested her fork.

"When we have our second baby," I began. And now you see why I took her fork. If your wife is sick with your first baby, remove all sharp objects before referencing a hypothetical second baby. My instinct for self-preservation rarely fails me. Anyway, "When we have our second baby, it'll be easier. We're learning everything the hard way with this one. Today we learned not to change the morning routine."

"Thank you, Mr. Genius. I don't think I want hash browns tomorrow."

I slowly slid her fork back to her.