excuses, excuses.

Being pregnant is a love/ hate relationship. For the most part, I hate being pregnant. Well, definitely I hated it at first. My Body for Life body was becoming no more, my skin was breaking out like crazy (crazy!!), I was nauseous, I couldn't run my half marathon, and all I ever wanted to do was go to sleep.

But now, I am slowly looking less like I'm chubbing out and more like I'm pregnant, my skin is a bit more under control, the nausea is almost gone (just please don't make me cook meat), and I'm a little bit more awake. And, as a bonus, I've discovered the pregnancy excuse.

For example, last night we had James over for his birthday. Everyone was having a great time, but I was exhausted after having flown back from Cleveland that evening and rushed around in a short amount of time to straighten the house and pick up Tucker from The Bets' house before people started arriving. About 9pm, I was getting a headache I was so tired. This isn't abnormal, I have always been a tired person. I went upstairs to lie down for just a few seconds before going back and waiting for all the guests to leave, when I remembered that I was pregnant. 

Hooray! "Sorry guys, I think I have to go upstairs and lie down. I'm exhausted." People took this as a great idea, since I was pregnant and all. I really was exhausted, I can tell the difference between regular tired and pregnant tired, and last night I was definitely both, but now that I can pull the pregnancy card, I look like less of a party pooper.

So today, when I locked my keys in my car in a rural Missouri town over an hour from home, and the locksmith said it might take 2.5 hours before he could get there, I wanted to say, "But I'm pregnant!" I knew that wouldn't make a difference, and luckily I found someone else who made me wait only 45 minutes. I guess the ol' pregnancy card isn't always a way out. Or in, in this case.