The Toilet Incident

For the past few weeks I've had numerous close encounters of the puking kind with toilets, be it at home or in public. It's uncomfortable, gross and highly unpleasant especially for me.

But the husband being the wonderfully endearing man that he is, tries to be there for me. Of course he can't follow me into public toilets to help me but he's right by my side the moment I feel bad at home. You know how many say you always know who your true friends are when they hold your hair back as you puke your guts out after a wild night? Fine, my nights may not be wild anymore (not sure when it ever was) but puking my guts out is definitely in the cards nowadays and dear husband does hold my hair back and rubs my back (thinking it does any good. I just don't have the heart to tell him it doesn't) as I hold my face firmly in position above the toilet bowl for any incoming attacks.

And so one night, about a week ago when my nausea was at its peak, we had just returned from window shopping at Ikea (fine, we started out with the INTENTION to window shop but came home with a carpet) and I had spent a large part of the day in toilets doing the nasty. I was NOT feeling well at all and could feel another attack coming as we parked and walked up to the apartment.

So we rushed up and I hurried out of my jacket and scarf and hat and gloves (damn this winter season!!) and didn't make it to the boots before I plunged face first for the toilet and blew a Mt. Vesuvius into Tubby our toilet bowl (yes, we name our toilet bowl. He's done so much to fulfill our worst needs, we think he at least deserves a name). The husband, having removed all of his winter paraphernelia, was instantly by my side, pushing my hair back and rubbing my back and occasionally scolding the baby for not being nice to me (it's so cute when he does that. Absolutely useless but so cute).

Now, in our household as in most, we divide up the chores and among other things, I do the cooking and most of the washing and he's in charge of all toilets including the cat's. Unfortunately, with me feeling so sick or otherwise working, nobody has really hounded Mathias to clean the toilet and with him being so concerned about me, he forgets more often than not. So it had been a while since he cleaned poor Tubby even though the usage had increased in ferocity and frequency and I'm not just talking about me.

So there I was, leaning into the heart of Tubby, feeling really bad and I get a panoramic view of the surroundings that ONLY the toilet cleaning bottle opening should ever be subjected to. It was not a pleasant sight but that was not to be the end of my ordeal. Pregnant women develop a super keen sense of smell which becomes a great disadvantage because that in turns makes them hyper sensitive to smell and therefore easily nauseous by various smells that may or may not be detected by the normal human nose (ie. the husband's nose).

As I lay sprawled over Tubby, winter boots still on and feeling like I'm gonna die, a whiff of something nasty tickled my nose and flooded my senses. Oh no, I thought, it's not just dirty it stinks too!

So I screamed in frustration to husband, Why haven't you cleaned Tubby!? It's so dirty and it smells of ass!! I think I'm gonna be sick again.

Husband replies apologetically, I'm so sorry honey! I'll clean it tomorrow. I promise. You're right. It does smell bad.

And I scream some more (a pregnant woman in discomfort is no comfort to anyone), Why haven't you cleaned it earlier!! It smells so bad in here!

Quiet pause before husband replies very hesitantly, Well...well...actually I think it smells of ass cos I just farted.

WHAT??!, you guessed it..I screamed.., why didn't you go outside if you needed to fart??You know I feel sick. And it smells so bad!! Oh my god!

Matter of factly he says, I did go outside to fart but I guess I should have waited a little longer cos my farts do tend to stick to my pants.

Hai....and that was our little toilet incident that would have been hilarious to me if I wasn't feeling so sick.