It also just happened to be my Birthday weekend which is always cause for celebration.
The party started on Friday night after work, bonfire at the beach with friends and Jacks crazy family.
Saturday was spent digging clams, crabbing and drinking beer getting ready for the big dinner on Monday. Sunday was a repeat of Saturday with the bonus of a good friends Birthday thrown in and that meant a party and dancing downtown that lasted into early morning Monday.
You can imagine the shape I was in Monday afternoon as I sat at the kitchen table with Jacks Mother cracking crab for dinner that night.
Now mind you, Jacks family was without a doubt a formative factor in what went into making Jack the scoundrel he is.
Lets just say the entire family was "a little rough around the edges."
His Mother was no exception
As I sat there at the table with her, cigarette smoke bouncing off the walls and forming weather patterns above us, she looked at me and with the rasp that only a lifetime smoker can claim said in no uncertain terms, "Little Girl , you look like shit," and she was right.
Not only did I look that way, I felt that way too.
After three days of sunshine, beer and general debauchery I was definitely feeling the effects.
I felt so bad I couldn't even smoke my own cigarettes let alone stand the constant smell that was wafting through the kitchen, and the smell of the crab was more than I could take, and trust me, that alone told me the situation was serious. I was the one who always ate more than I cracked and usually wasn't even welcome at the cracking table.
I leaned in towards my Mother -in-law and quietly confessed to her my fear of having a brain tumor.
I had never felt this way.
The sickness, the dizziness, I was so tired.
There was a moments silence before she stood up on her short little legs and started stomping her feet in her best pair of worn out slippers and bellered in my face...
Little Girl! Yer knocked up!
No.
I wasn't.
I was on the pill.
I took the pill every day.
Every day.
These were the thoughts that were going through my head as the old woman danced around the kitchen singing "Yer knocked up, Yer knocked up!"
I got in my car, drove straight to the drugstore, bought a bargain test, drove back to the house, peed on the stick and watched as the + sign appeared before my eyes.
This. Could. Not. Be. True.
I was on the pill.
Here's a fact about me that those who know me are well aware.
I will do anything to save a buck, so on reflection I have an idea that this may have happened because I was taking the pills that Val had left over after her husband had a vasectomy.
I figured that they WERE doctor prescribed, just not by my doctor.
I also figured that the expiration date didn't really matter and since they were bubble wrapped they would last forever.
As it turned out, I figured wrong
Even the pill I took that morning wasn't going to help me.
I was knocked up.
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