Perhaps my husband will not appreciate this post, but he should be grateful that I, at least, have a good sense of humor. I'm not saying that I was necessarily laughing when he actually said some these things, but I think that they are rather funny now.
This week, Patrick has said three different things that . . . I will post here in their context.
Statement #1:
My weekend was long. Even a non-nine month pregnant woman would have felt exhausted after a weekend like this one.
I went up to Aberdeen to watch the girls and to help cook for Jesse's high school graduation . . . I also accomplished lot of other things while up there that were not "rest related."
When I got home, I made chicken tacos for dinner (I could have done frozen pizza, but Natalie wanted the tacos). I also put together a blueberry-raspberry chocolate trifle for the graduation party. After all this, I started doing the dishes. Patrick begged me to just let them sit and told me that he would do them in the morning. Any other time those words would have been like a dream come true . . . except that I HAD to get them done. And I HAD to bleach all of my countertops and cabinets and my microwave and my stove. Once they were done, I went to brush my teeth and found beard stubble and toothpaste in my newly cleaned bathroom: this meant that I HAD to bleach the sink AND the floor (for some odd reason). I finally had to force myself to go to bed because my feet hurt so badly that I could hardly walk anymore.
Saturday saw me up, showered, dressed, and at the graduation at a time when I'm usually still trying to catch up on sleep. We were out until late.
On Sunday, I was EXHAUSTED beyond belief. I could hardly walk in the morning because I was so tired. When I told Patrick that I would probably skip Sunday school so that I could sleep, he said,
"But you just got 8 hours of sleep--why are you exhausted?"
Ummm, maybe YOU got 8 hours, but I sure didn't! Between being sore, in pain, and having to get up to go to the bathroom, I didn't get much sleep at all!! In fact, I don't get much sleep most nights . . . I thought that he knew this. It must have slipped his mind.
Statement #2:
Patrick and I were on our way back from New Jersey (one more visit to Poppop!), and we were discussing labor and delivery.
I told Patrick that the doctor said that he could most definitely cut the cord as long as there weren't any issues. He asked about catching the baby when she comes out, and I told him that I thought it was okay but that I hadn't really gotten a clear answer on that question.
Somehow that turned into something (I forget), and I said something about holding Natalie right after she was born.
"Don't I get to hold the baby first?" he asked.
"Who do you THINK should hold the baby first?" I responded incredulously. Honestly, I was thinking about all the blood, sweat, and tears of labor that I (in all caps) will be enduring shortly . . . I think I've earned the first hold!
"Well, I am the dad . . ." Patrick responded with a hopeful look and a grin.
We left it with me telling him that he could carry the baby from where she was getting cleaned up and then put her on me.
While I do think that this conversation was just a tad humorous, I also found it to be very sweet . . . as long as I get to hold her first. ;-)
Statement #3:
Tonight.
Erin from the sofa: "Honey, what if the baby decides not to come out until 42 weeks . . . that would stink. That would be . . . REALLY awful."
Patrick from the laundry room: "Why do you waste your time thinking about things like that?"
Erin from the sofa with her bottle of TUMS: "Because someone was just telling me about how her oldest was 10 days late . . . and I can already hardly move without pain . . . that would stink . . . that would really stink."
As an aside, Patrick thinks that the baby will come this week. Maybe next, but he has a feeling about this week--that's why he thinks I was wasting time. While I'm tempted to roll my eyes about his premonition about the timing (and I don't want to get my hopes up), I do remember that HE KNEW that I was pregnant a full week before I did--and I was positive that I was not. Guess we'll see what the next week brings!
This week, Patrick has said three different things that . . . I will post here in their context.
Statement #1:
My weekend was long. Even a non-nine month pregnant woman would have felt exhausted after a weekend like this one.
I went up to Aberdeen to watch the girls and to help cook for Jesse's high school graduation . . . I also accomplished lot of other things while up there that were not "rest related."
When I got home, I made chicken tacos for dinner (I could have done frozen pizza, but Natalie wanted the tacos). I also put together a blueberry-raspberry chocolate trifle for the graduation party. After all this, I started doing the dishes. Patrick begged me to just let them sit and told me that he would do them in the morning. Any other time those words would have been like a dream come true . . . except that I HAD to get them done. And I HAD to bleach all of my countertops and cabinets and my microwave and my stove. Once they were done, I went to brush my teeth and found beard stubble and toothpaste in my newly cleaned bathroom: this meant that I HAD to bleach the sink AND the floor (for some odd reason). I finally had to force myself to go to bed because my feet hurt so badly that I could hardly walk anymore.
Saturday saw me up, showered, dressed, and at the graduation at a time when I'm usually still trying to catch up on sleep. We were out until late.
On Sunday, I was EXHAUSTED beyond belief. I could hardly walk in the morning because I was so tired. When I told Patrick that I would probably skip Sunday school so that I could sleep, he said,
"But you just got 8 hours of sleep--why are you exhausted?"
Ummm, maybe YOU got 8 hours, but I sure didn't! Between being sore, in pain, and having to get up to go to the bathroom, I didn't get much sleep at all!! In fact, I don't get much sleep most nights . . . I thought that he knew this. It must have slipped his mind.
Statement #2:
Patrick and I were on our way back from New Jersey (one more visit to Poppop!), and we were discussing labor and delivery.
I told Patrick that the doctor said that he could most definitely cut the cord as long as there weren't any issues. He asked about catching the baby when she comes out, and I told him that I thought it was okay but that I hadn't really gotten a clear answer on that question.
Somehow that turned into something (I forget), and I said something about holding Natalie right after she was born.
"Don't I get to hold the baby first?" he asked.
"Who do you THINK should hold the baby first?" I responded incredulously. Honestly, I was thinking about all the blood, sweat, and tears of labor that I (in all caps) will be enduring shortly . . . I think I've earned the first hold!
"Well, I am the dad . . ." Patrick responded with a hopeful look and a grin.
We left it with me telling him that he could carry the baby from where she was getting cleaned up and then put her on me.
While I do think that this conversation was just a tad humorous, I also found it to be very sweet . . . as long as I get to hold her first. ;-)
Statement #3:
Tonight.
Erin from the sofa: "Honey, what if the baby decides not to come out until 42 weeks . . . that would stink. That would be . . . REALLY awful."
Patrick from the laundry room: "Why do you waste your time thinking about things like that?"
Erin from the sofa with her bottle of TUMS: "Because someone was just telling me about how her oldest was 10 days late . . . and I can already hardly move without pain . . . that would stink . . . that would really stink."
As an aside, Patrick thinks that the baby will come this week. Maybe next, but he has a feeling about this week--that's why he thinks I was wasting time. While I'm tempted to roll my eyes about his premonition about the timing (and I don't want to get my hopes up), I do remember that HE KNEW that I was pregnant a full week before I did--and I was positive that I was not. Guess we'll see what the next week brings!
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