Yesterday was Father's Day, obviously, and Scott's gift was to go see the new Superman (?) movie. Well, about 30 minutes before he was supposed to leave to go to the movie, I got one of my massive, only-when-pregnant, make-me-sick, can't-do-anything-but-lie-there, headaches. But I really wanted Scott to go to the movie. He loves movies, and he never ever goes. It's just not in the cards during this season of life, and I drop the ball, big time, about making time for him to go. So, it was the obvious thing for him to do on Father's Day. Plus, he had invited two friends, it was time for him to go, etc. etc. etc.
So, though he graciously offered to stay with me and my headache, I set the kids up with some cartoons on the computer and got myself comfy on the couch to ride out the headache. And that was how we spent the afternoon. I mean, so many cartoons, way more than a kid should get to watch at one time, but I was just surviving the headache. At one point I did have to rally and come up with some type of edible something to call dinner for the kids. And I managed to clean the kitchen and fold a load of laundry or two, but it was basically kids watching cartoon, mom lying on the couch.
Because of the headache, I had felt sick all afternoon, and I couldn't think of anything that sounded good to eat. Well around 8:00 pm, it hit me, a roast beef sandwich from Firehouse Subs, which I had only had one time--while I was pregnant with John--but I still remembered it, and I had to have it. So, we got the kids ready for bed, started reading (all of this takes a while), and as Scott is in the middle of the bible story, he realizes it's 8:50, and that Firehouse Subs probably closed at 9. We both went into panic mode--over a sub--but it was a desperate situation. I promise. He basically threw the bible at me, grabbed his flip flops, and ran out the door, as the kids sat staring in confusion.
And then John proceeded to turn on his new three year old routine which consists of being as completely uncooperative as possible. And my head still hurt, and I was hungry, and I thought I might cry because all I could think was that Firehouse was going to close and I was stuck doing bed time alone for no reason at all.
But Scott, who is such a gift from the Lord, because instead of writing off my craving as silly and unimportant, called Firehouse Subs and begged them not to close. He told them he had a pregnant wife who was craving a sandwich, and could they please make it for him and he would be there in five minutes to pick it up. And ya'll, they were very kind and said, of course they would do that for me. And they even gave me five pickles because they knew I was pregnant. And I ate every single one.
That sandwich, those pickles, I have never tasted anything so wonderful. I have feeling I will eat a million more of those sandwiches before this baby is born! thank goodness for firehouse subs.