Nate has “planned” (I say planned loosely, as this is thrown together last-minute) a camping trip with his buddies. Out in the woods. No bathrooms, no fire pit, grill, nada. Only one other female is going, and the boys will all be drinking. Dog nose can smell beer a mile away and Momma likes beer, so that will be torture. Not to mention that the wind gusts are going to make it very difficult to put up our tent, which has yet to be sealed (Nate is not a Boy Scout & does not understand the importance of sealing a tent).

Prior to being knocked up, this would not bother me. I heart the outdoors & was a Girl Scout for 11 years. But now that I am peeing 90 times a day & 3 times every night, I am less than enthusiastic about peeing in a bush & wiping with a leaf. Nate does not understand that, as he gets the joy of whipping out a penis & spraying a tree for 30 seconds. NOT THE SAME, HONEY. Not to mention the m/s vertigo, a lovely gift from Harpie, cause concern for my ability to not pee in my UGGs.

But I don’t want Nate to think that Harpie has sucked all the fun out of our weekends & the things he wants to do. But I would truly rather gauge out my eyes with a toothpick then shiver in a camping chair today.