Dan had to travel out of town on business last weekend.  That's right last weekend.  He flew out Friday to San Jose for some supposed training that just couldn't be done during the course of a normal business week in a place like Fargo, ND.  I must have appeared skeptical because he forwarded me his itinerary when the trip was first booked a month ago.  I am still not totally convinced, though, that he doesn't take a secret pleasure in these little get-aways.  Nor am I convinced that electronic itineraries cannot be faked.

Needless to say, it was a pretty much uneventful weekend.  I just really miss having someone to complain to about my muscle soreness, insomnia, giant belly, small bladder, shrinking maternity clothes, and baby movements that feel like he's trying to tear himself out.  (Come to think of it, maybe Dan really does deserve to get away.)

And have I mentioned that I'm particularly moody with this pregnancy?  I keep looking for challenges.  Like the other day when I was at the department store buying a baby shower gift, and some nineteen year-old came up behind me and asked if I was in line.  Yeah, I'm standing right next to the "Line Starts Here" sign with a baby outfit and my purse out—I think you should be able to figure it out without me putting it into words.  (I really just said "yes".)  Then she has the nerve to say, "Oh, well I just have one thing to buy."  Really?  I only have three things to buy, I'm at maximum pregnant capacity, and I'm trying to keep my two year-old from knocking a display table over and crawling around on the dirty floor like a puppy, but really, why don't you go on ahead of me because I really want to delay getting out of the store as long as possible.  Come on!  You're young, suck it up!  (What I really did though was look her up and down and just said "Oh").  Then I stood there and fumed, just hoping she would say one more thing so I could unleash.  Unfortunately she didn't , and I think I missed out on my last chance to lash out on a total stranger and still have the pregnancy excuse.  However, I still have my eyes open looking for the next possible opportunity.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Anyway, I digress.  Last weekend was really not too bad, and H was pretty well behaved most the time.  There were a few incidents, like when she was so proud of herself for using all the toilet paper, and then we spent the next half hour plunging the toilet.  Then there was the time I had gotten the kitchen garbage ready to go out and went upstairs to get clean out the rest of the garbages.  Suddenly I hear, "Watch out Casey.  I'm going to slide it all the way down."  I ran (or waddled quickly) to the top of the stairs and see H had tipped the garbage bag on its side and was straddling it like a pony, ready to slide on it down the stairs.  That was at least one disaster that was avoided.  Oh, I also ran over my camera, and cried about it before I learned it had somehow survived, but now looks a little demented and something inside it rattles.

Throughout the weekend, Dan and I talked on the phone when we could.  At one point, he called to tell me about his evening.  He and his coworkers had just gotten back from the beach where it was 75 degrees and beautiful.  As I listened, I looked dejectedly out the window at the falling snow and heavy winds.  They'd had dinner at a restaurant right on beach.  "What did you have?" I asked, not really wanting to know.  "Oh, some kind of fish, but I think I swallowed a bone." 

I was glad he couldn't see me smiling to myself, but somehow it seemed to even things up a little.  Thank goodness for that fish bone.  (I love you, Dan.  Thanks for putting up with me.)