And Baby Makes Three...!: Me vs. The Pre-Natals

I have a nightly routine, and it goes something like this:

5:00 - quittin' time! I call JBB on the drive home and ask him the question I've asked him every night for two years: "What do you want to do for dinner?" He's grown to hate that question.
5:30 - 7:00 - we eat said dinner, usually involving a potato. Then we walk around the neighborhood and I try to spy in the windows of neighbors and see if there is anything good going on I need to know about.
7:00 - 7:30 - Wheel. Of. Fortune!! Where Jason shouts out answers like "Bertie is a stuffed octopus!" after Vanna puts up an "E". (I'm Bertie. And I laugh every time).
7:30 - 8:00 - Jeopardy. Where we marvel at Alex Trebec's arrogance for 30 minutes.
8:00 - up the stairs we go. Yes, 8:00. No, we are not 150 years old.

Now - this is where the wheels fall off. Out go the contacts, teeth are brushed, rings come off. I get in bed, fire up episode 919 of House Hunters that I've DVRd. And then I stare at my pre-natals on my night stand, while they stare right back at me. I pretend to not notice them, and concentrate on if the buyers are going to pick the "cute fixer-upper", or the "turn-key ready, but out of their price range" house.

Then, JBB arrives from his bathroom (separate bathrooms = yay!) and reminds me that I have already watched this House Hunters and tells me which house they picked. THEN - "Bertie, it's time to take your vitamin." And I act all nonchalant, like "I know, I'm getting ready to", when inside I'm chanting "It's not that bad, it isn't as big as it looks, it doesn't smell, it won't get stuck in my throat, women lift cars off their children, pony up and take this effin' vitamin woman!!!"

So, I do. And it is dramatic, and I truly don't mean for it to be. Since I've been little I've had a horrible time swallowing pills. My mom used to crush up medicine for me and give it to me in M &M's while she sang and danced "Swallow, swallow, swallow!" That is true. Ask my sister. She still gives me crap for it. Anyway. I brace myself, getting the pre-natal in one hand, and opening my bottle of water with the other. I've figured out that the problem arises when the pre-natal sits on my tongue for even a nano-second; that's when I start to gag, sputter, and generally lose my mind. Sherman had an easier time marching to the sea than I have taking these hogs.

I sit up, take a deep breath, open wide, and in a flurry shove it in my mouth and drink half of the bottle of water, reasoning that the more water in my gullet the faster the vitamin will slide down. Jason watches, warily, and then cheers me on afterwards. "Bertie, that wasn't so bad!" Or, "Bertie, that one went down really fast." And he is serious, bless his heart. He is my biggest cheerleader. And I am getting better. I shouldn't tell you about the pre-natal taking low point, but I'm going to. A few weeks ago, I was off my game...and...I threw the pill along with the gallon of water I drank right back up onto our new bedspread. It wasn't my finest moment. Speaking of not finest moments - JBB fished the pill up, rinsed it off, and triumphantly announced, "I got it! You can still take it." I didn't; I'm sorry, Cookie.

So - only 196 more nights of this. It gets easier, right? Please tell me it gets easier.