On Saturday, my husband did something he hasn't done in over a year - made chilli. He put a little too much beer in for my taste, but other than that it was really good. I was good. Had one bowl, didn't stuff myself. Very proud of myself for a change.
That night after the kids are in bed, my best friend comes over and we decide to pick up some snacks. Peter tells me pick up some tortilla chips to scoop the chilli with. When I come back from the store, I have a ton of stuff, but again I am good and do not make myself sick.
Dinner on Sunday is chilli again. Still, I have only one bowl, but I eat it scooping with the tortilla chips instead of a spoon this time. I go through the usual nighttime routine, play with the kids, clean them up and put them to bed.
Once they're sleeping, Peter and I settle down on the couch to catch up on "True Blood". I stretch out next to him, and all of a sudden get this awful pain in my belly. "Ohhhhhhh!" I moan. "Ugh, my tummy is sooooo full!"
"What's the matter?" Peter asks, "You have a bellyache?"
"Yes! Oh my God my tummy hurts so much!" I cry.
"But you only had one bowl. Was it too spicy?" Peter wonders.
I tell him, "No. I ate it with those stupid tortilla scoops! Oooooooh!"
"Aww, poor baby. Come here," he says lifting his arm, so I can slide underneath.
He rubs my belly as I'm complaining, "Ohhh, my poor tummy. Ooooh my stomach!"
As I look up, I see him trying not to giggle, especially since I was soothing his belly two nights before, but he's losing the battle.
"Glad you think my stomachache is funny!" I grumble.
"It's not that, Sweety. You're just so cute with that full, little belly sticking out," he explains.
"It's your fault!" I say. "You wanted those stupid tortilla chips!" Just then a wave of pain hits me as if to punish me for not taking responsibility, and I whine loudly, "OWWWWWW! I have SUCH a bellyache!"
"I haven't seen you like this in a while," Peter tells me. "Do you want to go upstairs and lie down?"
"No," I pout. "I just want this tummy ache to go away!"
"I could punch you in the head and take your mind off your tummy," Peter jokes.
"Stop being funny and just rub my belly, please!" I huff at him.
He had never stopped rubbing my belly, and continues as we turn on the show. I end up falling asleep and having a nightmare of being in a room with nothing but huge bowls of chilli and tortilla chips.
No more chilli for another year at least!