Monday, June 11, 2012

Weekend Alone

This was Paul's third annual weekend in Lake Placid, this time to run the full marathon. Despite the five hour drive upstate, he understandably enjoys running a scenic destination race while spending some time with friends.

And while I miss him when he's gone, it's only for a couple of days. I generally plan something fun to do by myself that I know he doesn't enjoy -- maybe some shopping or making a special trip for a scone from Alice's Tea Cup.

This year, however, was an exception. I would never deny him the trip -- and I'm pretty sure he registered for the race before we knew I was pregnant anyway -- but I will admit to guilting him into coming home on Sunday instead of Monday. My "morning" sickness still isn't over, and in fact I've recently had some pretty bad evenings. I hadn't been left alone for more than a few hours at a time, and I wasn't sure how I would handle it. I know I'm supposed to be a big girl, but it sure doesn't feel like it when I'm hunched over the toilet (or, more likely, a trash can at the 59th Street subway stop).

As I write this on Sunday evening, I can say that the weekend went pretty well. Some of the credit goes to Paul -- he set me up with plenty of baked potatoes, as well as some leftover shredded chicken and pasta. Some more of the credit goes to Downton Abbey -- so I wasn't up for a trip to Manhattan, but at least I could entertain myself with part of the first season of a show I've been meaning to watch.

Maybe I'm a bad wife for doing my best to convince Paul to come home a day earlier than he wanted, but he's a good husband -- it didn't take much convincing.

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