Ice Cream and Pregnancy Tests

          Ice Cream and Pregnancy Tests

“I want Penguins and a new pregnancy test. Why don’t you go get it while I give the boy a bath and put him to bed.” Lilly demanded.

“Penguins….and a pregnancy test? That’s quite the Saturday night combo. Although, I don’t think Penguins carry’s EPT tests anymore.” I said.

“CVS is on the way,” she said with a sigh, “just stop and pick one up.”

“Oh come on, I got you two boxes of tests already, there’s six in there. If you really need one why don’t you use one of those?” I asked her.

“I used one of those the other day and they suck. The lines are hard to read. It looked like there was suppose to be one line but the other one is partly visible. I don’t think they work right.” She pleaded.

“You used a pregnancy test? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, a couple weeks ago and last week also.”

“You really want new ones?” I asked.

“Yes, I want the ones that actually say pregnant or not pregnant on them.”

“Are you kidding? You have to be able to read words to trust it?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re saying that if the test doesn’t have words then it’s not accurate enough for you?”

“Yes.” She could no longer contain herself and started laughing, and yet she still insisted on having a different brand of pregnancy test. ‘The one that says it.’

“It has to actually say, Lilly you are pregnant, right on it or it sucks?”

“Yep.”

“Come on. It doesn’t matter what symbol or text they put on it, it is either a positive or negative outcome either way,” I glorified my explanation with arms waving through the air and a sarcasm so heavy it was oozing off my lip. “They all tell you the same thing, actual text does not change that. They could put a middle finger on it and it would mean the same thing! Actually, that just might be more accurate.”

What could I do, so I went out and got her ice cream and pregnancy test. A few weeks earlier we were having a long and drawn out debate over her drinking alcohol while not being on birth control. I wanted her to take a preg test if she was going to be drinking, even a small amount. Regardless of if she was certain she was not pregnant. I simply do not think it is worth it to take any chances. The nights she did drink, she was fairly confident that she couldn’t be pregnant, considering the time of month and the last time we had sex and other factors. So she wasn’t too worried about it. I was being overly cautious, and she was a little under cautious for my taste. So why not just take it anyway? So ultimately, she started taking the tests, but she had just then finally told me about it.



While standing in the empty isle of the pharmacy, debating over which brand had the better results font and most attractive eye catching packaging graphics, two teeny-boppers came giggling down the aisle, stopping right in front of the condom section, and right beside me. With their laughing and quick chatter back and forth they were clearly embarrassed about buying condoms.

The one wearing black spandex and a neon pink 80’s loose fitting top said to her friend, “Holly shit, these are so expensive.”

Her friend, the girl with bleached white and pink striped hair scoffed and said, “Oh don’t be cheap.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I was eyeing them from my peripheral. I turned to face them, yielding two pregnancy test boxes, one in each hand and said, “See this?” as I held up my hands to reveal the boxes.

“OMG WTF.” She said. Did she just text me?

“Yeah well, if you don’t cough up the six bucks and buy those rubbers, the next time you come in here you’re going to be buying one of these.” I lectured her as her friend started laughing in embarrassment and shook her head in apparent agreance. The chick in spandex swiftly grabbed the rubbers off the shelf.

“I’m sorry about that.” She said as she motioned towards the boxes I held in my hands. “Good luck with it.”

“Yeah…and good luck with those.” I said as they flew down the aisle to get away from me. If I just spared one teen pregnancy, then it makes it all worthwhile. I’m such a saint.

A little over a month ago we were arguing up a storm. The stormy weather surrounding us just happened to have been on the same day that Lilly believed she was most fertile. Most able to conceive. I know it’s a rare occasion that I don’t want to have sex, but you know what, after arguing with her all night the last thing I wanted to do was, well to have sex. It would be angry sex, not as if that’s such a bad thing anyway. But not that night. Whatever it was we were fighting about, which I no longer even remember, was not the type of thing where I, being a guy, would still want to have sex. Which I must say, is not always the case after fighting.

That night was the first night in history that Lilly made a move on me after being in an argument all night. First time ever. Her attitude shifted in an instant from raving female hormone induced lunatic to little innocent sex crazed thing. When a woman wants to get pregnant she will do anything. Sort of like when a guy wants to get laid he’ll say anything. So it goes. She usually tortures me for a few days after a fight. It seems like you can add a day onto that torture each passing year we are together. So I let her know it wasn’t gonna happen and said, “This is the first time ever that after a fight you have initiated sex.” I wasn’t even sure yet that I was going to refuse her cravings, but I wanted to put up a little faux fight. You know, playing hard to get. Hey, she started with the role reversals. Behind the façade of my refusal there was an addict waiting to undress. Which backfired because that pissed her off. Her heavy breathing stopped and silence filled the air, since I had her attention I continued with, “Just because this is your prime night to conceive you think you can have your way with me? Oh you think I didn’t know that was your plan?” Well, that was the end of that conversation.



A couple weeks later she was still sulking about it. She let me know by playing her passive aggressive card and withholding sex that whole time. One time she killed a plant I had given her, to express her anger with me. Killed the thing. As if the plant deserved to be put in the middle of our fighting. And it wasn’t a swift execution. It was a gradually drawn out dehydration, over a couple of weeks, the entire time she was mad at me. Again, this time I knew what her deal was. But by this time, a couple weeks into it, we were doing fine, and she told me what she had been up to. The conversation was relaxed and she was laughing it off. So I said, “So you think you can just be mad at me and holdout this whole time, then when your fertile days comes around again you think everything will be all right and we just jump right on it? You’ve got another thing coming honey.” I took her laughter and overly forced denial as approval of my assumption. Out of fear of repeating the stormy night she gave up on her dry spell. Got to keep the wheel greased or they won’t work when you want it to, right.

Later, the night after buying her the new and improved pregnancy test and Penguins ice cream, as I was studying the art of bread making out of my new book, Lilly walked in the room coming straight from the bathroom.

“Are you pregnant? I asked as she walked in.

She nodded her head up and down casually, placed her wedding ring in her jewelry box then crawled and sat Indian style on the bed. I glanced over and saw a wide and teary eyed Lilly, half smiling half wanting to vomit. Shaking her head she said, “I’m not lying.”

“Did you break it.” I asked, referring to the test.

“Maybe….maybe I should do another one.”

“No, no you didn’t break it.”

My wife, sitting on her bed, terror and excitement and shock and nervousness all being displayed on her face at once. And what do I do? I go down stairs, grab my camera, head back up into the bathroom to capture the moment. I take pictures of the test from various angles. Even snap a few of the wrapper for posterity sake. Then I zoom in and snap a shot of Lilly, sitting there staring into sheets in deep contemplation of what is to become of our family. Well, it looks like we really greased the wheels good a few weeks ago. And it looks like her plan, her family plan, worked out exactly the way SHE planned it.