Living with Inlaws
DId I mention that I moved in with Paul during calving season??? For those of you who don’t know what that means… it means that the cattle that he raised as a main source of income were producing their offspring… the income… and he had to check on them NUMEROUS times in the night to make sure that one of the cows or calves did not perish throughout the birthing activity. Especially the heifers (first time moms) because we all know that having a baby for the first time all by yourself can be scary and awful… and sometimes moms just walk away from their baby once it’s born and pretend they don’t know where the hell that thing came from…. (well, cow moms do anyway)…
Normally, as a younger (non pregnant and new live in girlfriend) person, I LOVED calving season. It smelled good… and there were lots of new babies around. This year however, I was not so excited! See, Paul didn’t actually winter any cattle at his house…. they were all at his dad’s. And because his dad was old and had put in his middle of the night cow checking time in the past, Paul had to do it. Which meant that instead of driving 15miles every couple of nights to check on the cows…. he just stayed the night at his dad’s house… every night… for a WHOLE month!! No big deal. Except…. I was lonely… and didn’t understand why I had moved out of my house where I had a three block walk to work because I was puking my brains out and my boyfriend thought he could better support me if we were in the same house. Only now I had a 40 mile commute to work and he wasn’t even there to hold my hair. WHAT THE HELL??? So he invited me to stay at his parent’s house with him. Now this is where life gets fuzzy… where I am SURE i said no… sure that I said for the sanity of my relationship with his family I thankfully declined and continued on commuting and coming home to an empty house… not even a gertie dog in the house… as the puppy had moved in with Paul’s parents temporarily as well. But I had pregnancy brain… so bad in fact that there were times when I would find my cell phone mysteriously in the freezer…. and so I agreed. Agreed to spend my first month as a live in girlfriend living in my boyfriend’s parents’ house…. sleeping in a 3/4 size bed in a room almost directly below theirs to say the least. My friend warned me that people often lost portions of their minds when they were pregnant… however, I had seemed to have lost the entire thing.
Okay, okay, I am being dramatic. It was slightly romantic… we got to go for an evening walk through the heifers in our coveralls (often with the puppy stuck in the bib part of one of our outfits) and check for new baby calves. We got to snuggle in a bed just less than size double so we didn’t really have room not to snuggle (as if we needed the excuse). It was nice. Except for the fact that my hormones were raging on levels completely off the charts due to my new found pregnancy… and Paul’s were… well let’s just say he was a guy. And I was having MAJOR issues with the whole “in his parents’ house” thing. But someone was going to get hurt if I waited any longer….
And that is how I came to realize that I quite possibly have no morals. But really… if one was going to get accidently pregnant to a guy she was hardly even dating (although very much in love with) and then move in with him so that he could hold her hair while she puked her guts out. I guess sex in that guy’s parents’ basement spare room wasn’t too much out of line. At least that is what I am going to tell myself.