Yesterday

(This picture has nothing to do with anything, other than it was taken yesterday, which happens to be the title of this post.)

"Don't embarrass me."

These were the words I quickly whispered to Tom as we entered our prenatal class yesterday. In the short time that Tom Thomas and I have been married, I've definitely been known to utter this sentiment once or twice (or thrice...) before. Statistics would show that it usually precedes some sort of social experience.

The nurse kicked off the class by discussing common third trimester woes. Basically, members of the class could state their plight and then she would explore possible causes and solutions. Tom wasted no time in raising his hand to announce that his wife had awoken that morning with a "numb butt."

That's right. A numb butt. (Please excuse the harsh language, if you do indeed find such language harsh.) After a restless night of tossing and turning I finally found a position on my right side that suited me enough to be able to sleep for a few hours. However, once I woke up, a good portion of the right side of my body was solid numb. My posterior not excluded. And then, you know how if you go without feeling for long enough you end up just sore?

Well—I related all of this to Tom that morning—never once suspecting it would become a topic of discussion in a room full of 20-some people just a few short hours later.

Luckily for me (or luckily for Tom, depending on the way you look at it) I'm not that easily embarrassed. However, I didn't need a mirror to know that my poor blemished face had turned bright red.

In the end, it was speculated that the sciatic nerve was to blame.

However, Tom had his own share of embarrassment. Tee hee.

Here's the back story: Tom and I recently applied for life insurance. So before we headed out to our class yesterday, a lady dropped by our home to collect the usual necessities—blood work, blood pressure, and everyone's favorite: a urine sample! (Boy, have I gotten personal today or what??) To make what I deem a very amusing story short, I'll just tell you that Tom's timing was quite off. And as a result he found himself having to drink 24 oz. of water (his entire CamelBak) pronto. And when that didn't work, he found himself drinking up my entire CamelBak too.

The crisis was barely averted.

The whole experience came back to haunt him about an hour later in our prenatal class, when in a room full of pregnant ladies, Tom found himself rushing to the bathroom with the best of us.

Let me share a fun conversation we had, just for kicks.

Tom leans over and whispers: "I have to go to the bathroom."

Season: "You can't hold it?"

Tom responds with an agonizing "what-do-I-do?" look.

Season ignores him and continues to pay attention to the "stages of labor" being presented at the front of the class.

A few minutes later, Tom leans over again and whispers: "This is really embarrassing. I'm in a room full of pregnant women."

Season nods her head in agreement, but doesn't show much sympathy.

Instead she offers: "You could fake like you have a phone call..."

Tom seriously considers the idea.

Yet again Tom leans over and whispers: "Would you raise your hand and ask if we can take a bathroom break?"

Season responds with a scornful "please" look.

Tom hangs his head in shame, but does indeed quietly exit the room.

About an hour later he found himself with the exact same problem again. That's when the giggles really set in for me.

Ask me how many times I had to excuse myself in the middle of class for the bathroom. Go ahead, ask me. Not once.

On the drive home we discussed how a certain father seated behind us repeatedly got on my nerves. Tom thought it prudent to suggest the chance that that couple was probably also driving home discussing how a certain father—with overgrown curly hair and seated in front of them—repeatedly got on their nerves.

But it's just like they say. It's always a circus in those prenatal classes.