Tile shopping adventures

We didn't take any time off school for the 4th of July since we're banking our days for other things, so we got up this morning like usual and I started the school day with the kids, reading them a section from our read-aloud book and getting them started on some grammar exercises before heading to the kitchen to do the dishes. While I was doing the dishes, Andrew got a call from our contractor.

We're redoing our bathroom—out of necessity more than desire. The, uh, floor is caving in...it's...fine...I'm sure...except that it's 100% not fine...so we have to redo the subfloor, which means redoing the shower, which means that we may as well do the whole bathroom because that bathroom has the weirdest floor plan in the world, so we're going to move the toilet over here and put the sink over there and take down that wall and change the door...and....

That all sounded fine until our contractor started talking about picking out cabinets (the current cabinet is super tall so none of the kids can reach it without a stool and it's falling apart and I hate it) and tile and paint and faucets and...

I am not a decisive person.

Anyway, we've been putting off making many of these decisions (because our contractor has been communicating through Andrew's email, and although Andrew teases me mercilessly for how many unread messages I have in my inbox, this is an email I would have been stressing about because I don't "shelve" my problems well (Andrew sometimes shelves problems a little too well)).

Because I was up to my elbows in homeschooling, Andrew said that he'd just run down to the flooring place by himself and that he'd text me about options and I could have my say that way. But I was planning on taking the kids to the pool because hurricane Elsa is on her way and is going to take away a few potential swimming days this week. If I was at the pool, I wouldn't necessarily be the best at texting Andrew back. 

"Why don't I just come with you really quick?" I suggested. "I can set the kids up with some assignments and we'll just run in and out and be done with it. With the promise of the pool hanging over their heads, I think they'll buckle down and do what they need to do."

So that's what we did.

I showed Benjamin and Zoë what pages to read in their math textbooks and what pages to do in their math workbooks. I told them they needed to practice piano. And I asked Rachel to put on our current science documentary (Humans: The World Within) when they were finished. 

And then I remembered that I hadn't had breakfast, so I grabbed a granola bar, a cheese stick, and a handful of nuts...and we were off.

We got to the store, which was so poorly laid out, and eventually found some tile that might work with our budget and concept (I guess we have one of those?). It was about then that I started feeling funny—short of breath, needing to sit down, shaky, sweaty. 

"Are you alright?" Andrew asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I just...maybe didn't eat enough breakfast. I don't know. I...don't feel great. But..."

We still had to find floor tile, so we pressed onward. My ability to pass any sort of judgement on tile quickly diminished and I just found myself relieved when we found a tile that was again in our price range and which matched the size constraints of our contractor and which seemed like it matched our cabinets and other tile. At this point I didn't really care what the tile looked like (as long as it wasn't the tile we currently have—which has a lot of texture and is impossible to clean); I just wanted to get out of there. 

We stood in line to check out with our little tile samples...

Well, Andrew stood in line. I squatted in line and fanned my face and tried to not die. 

The poor man in front of us was like, "You can go ahead of me," which I super appreciate because (1) we only had two items and he had a whole cart and (2) he was nice to me even though I don't really look pregnant yet (though apparently I a little bit looked like I was dying, so his kindness was more than justified). 

I felt like I was going to faint while walking to the car, but made it and sat down. I ripped off my mask, cranked the A/C, and leaned my chair back. 

"Are you going to be okay?" Andrew asked.

"Sure," I said. "Yes. Let's just...go home."

So Andrew started to drive and then...

"Are you going to throw up?!" Andrew asked.

"No," I said. "I don't think so. I...maybe...yes..."

Andrew stopped the car and told me to get out—quick!—but there wasn't quite time for that. Luckily there was an empty grocery bag at my feet so I grabbed that and...got sick. 

After that I felt much better...in spite of having to hold a bag of vomit for the twenty minute ride home. 

I don't know why my tummy was so angry. I'm kind of passed the morning sickness stage (and even for that I usually only feel nauseated without ever throwing up). I've done plenty of walking around, so it's not like walking around the store was physically taxing. I've worn masks for long stretches of time, so it's not like wearing a mask should make me feel inordinately stuffy. What I ate wasn't a great breakfast (but, really, tummy—if you're sad because you didn't get enough food...throwing up is a poor way to solve that problem), but I know that it was a good balance of carbs and protein (because it's one of my carefully-measured, go-to diabetic snacks).

Whatever the case, it was clear that what Mommy needed when she got home was not to haul five kids (and her pregnant self) to the pool, but a nice rest. So while I took care of my vomit bag, Andrew went inside to inform the kids that we wouldn't be going swimming after all. 

Some of them were already in their swimsuits, but they sweetly accepted their fate ("Can I play Zelda instead?!") and let me have a nice long nap. They'd done all their schoolwork and were just as sweet as could be. 

When I went into the kitchen to get a drink (I really needed one after that car ride) before heading upstairs to take a nap, the kids were bustling around getting their lunch ready. Alexander was poking around in the fridge and Benjamin came around the corner.

"Are you okay, Mom?" he asked sweetly.

Alexander slammed the fridge shut and wheeled around (on the stool he was standing on to reach the fridge doors because he's still pretty tiny) and shouted, "No, she's not, Benjamin! She throwed-ed up, okay?!"

Then he came to give me a hug and tell me to go lie down, promising to be, oh, so very good while I was sleeping. I think he misinterpreted Benjamin's question, because Benjamin was trying to be nice in asking, too, but Alexander's protective response was just too much cuteness. 

So I took a nap. And have been fine since getting up. 

"When's the last time you threw up?!" Andrew asked. 

Honestly, I think it was the week we moved from North Carolina to Spanish Fork (when I was pregnant with Alexander and everyone got sick on the car ride out and I thought I had lucked out of that tummy bug because I flew in by myself later...but then I caught it anyway (probably from Miriam, who was the last child to get it)), so not since 2017!

I don't think that today's illness is a stomach bug. I just think it's a weird confluence of events: improper breakfast combined with pregnancy combined with a car ride combined with...I don't know. All I know is I didn't feel sick until I felt sick and then I pretty much felt fine. Fingers crossed it's just a me-thing and not a cycle-through-the-family thing!