Sunday mornings were your favorite. You were off work, your daughter was off of school, your husband, Simon, wasn't on call. It was peaceful family time, and time to make a big breakfast and eat with your family.

While your husband was inhaling his food like a starved animal, you sat with him and waited for your daughter to return from the bathroom. She was taking longer than usual; had complained about some abdominal pain the night before. It wasn't all that unusual, though, so you just let it be.

That was the plan, at least, until you heard her voice call from the bathroom. "Mom!" She stepped out a second later shifting her legs a little uncomfortably. "Mom, dad, I got my period," she says, surprisingly calm considering her situation.

Before you could stand up to go and help, you felt your husband's coffee, and unfortunately, spit, spray all over your face. When you turned to look at him, he looked borderline traumatized.