Finding out at a mexican fast-food joint = typical. and AWESOME.

For some reason, I always have a good story. My life is full of good stories. Funny, self-deprecating, embarrassing stories. You can tell me any story about yourself, your life, your trials, your triumphs, and I will ALWAYS come up with a personal story to beat it. It is just how I roll. God's gift that has an amazing capacity to annoy others, if you will.

Back to my story:

So after traveling 4 time zones, my Aunt Reba, or Lucy, or whatever her name is, just wasn't coming. She was late. What I mean by this is my period was around 4 days late, just in case you were wondering when you had a sister named Reba or Lucy, Dad. Even though I was convinced that one slip-up couldn't have actually created a life in my belly, I had to get it off my mind and eventually mustered up the courage to bring myself to a local Giant. Just so happens it is the Giant where I am CERTAIN to see someone from my past. From my not-so-elegant, or white and capped toothed, wide-legged jeans, crazy but memorable and full of good stories, past.

With sunglasses and huge puff coat in tow, I went into Giant and certainly saw someone from my past. In fact, she was working at the pharmacy counter. In Virginia, pregnancy tests were recently moved to the pharmacy counter and only the pharmacy counter. Let me tell you a bit about this girl. She comes from a really, really strict Catholic family. AND her mom once chased me and Barbara down the street for making her stuff her bra in like, 3rd grade. I never really talked to her much after that (something about a restraining order). But now here she was at the counter, and I was asking her for the cheapest accurate test (they are so expensive, and you KNOW no one takes just one). As I left I smiled and said "I just got married" and brushed away my bangs with the hand that happens to hold my wedding ring.

So I go home, and, hiding from my father and brother-in-law, sneak into the bathroom. I am not going to get into the dynamics of this (ok yes I am), but can I just say how hard it is to pee on a stick? I mean, Aye-yo technology? Can't we come up with something else? We don't exactly have the aiming power that our counter-sex has, do we? I am SURE a man invented the pregnancy test.

Anyways, did you know that 80% of women mis-read the strip tests? YES 80%!!!!! Well, I sure misread it. I thought that both tests said negative, and with a little assural from a friend (Cricket) I was off to celebrate with a little (a lot) of vino for Lauren's birthday that night.

Friday comes along and it is my sisters 29th (30th) birthday party at this lovely little place in Dupont Circle. Well within two pops of a champagne bottle, I was well on my way to being "happy". Just thinking back to this night, makes me so embarrassed for my baby. The poor thing. That night I ended up: dancing on top of our reserved table (yes I took my baby clubbing before he/she was even born), and shooting god knows what liqour with ANTONIO, yes brother-in-law, you have contributed to setting a bad example for my baby. Note bene: I later expressed my concerns about this night to my doctor who reassured me that while I needed to certainly detox, my baby was going to be ok as the pregnancy was in such an early stage. Fingers crossed!

That night as Cricket and I stuffed our makeup smudged faces with leftover party food at home, I told her that for some inexplicable reason, I felt so guilty drinking (in retrospect of course). She convinced me to take one more test in the morning (a digital one this time) that way I could be sure-for-sure and put all this baby nonsense behind me.

That morning we went BACK to that fateful Giant, without seeing anyone, and bought 2 digital tests. I went to the Wickett's house and took one (no Mrs. Wickett, it wasn't Cricket's) and guess what it said?

ERROR!!! I was never going to put this baby nonsense behind me if I couldn't ever get a straight answer! So we decided to run a few errands, and hit chipotle for lunch, taking along the second pregnancy test.

Chipotle. Can you believe this is the story I will be telling my baby one day? Silver linings: at least it wasn't Taco Bell and Chipotle writes those clever little stories on the soda cups which are so funny sometimes.

So, I go in the bathroom when I am ready, and take the test. There it was: PREGNANT. In capital letters. PREGNANT. I went out to the "dining" area and just showed crick my test(I know, it's sick, just don't eat at the third booth from the door at the Chipotle in Fairfax). And then we looked at each other for a good 3 minutes and then came the tears. Terrible, hysterical, desperate, sobbing, tears and words like "how", and "but I have a job interview" and "what am I going to do?".

A few minutes later, in my car, I giggled about the fact that I found out in Chipotle, and Cricket smiled and said "at least I get to be a part of the story".