Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Dear Husband. A Letter from your 9 Months Pregnant Wife

Dear Husband,

When I vacuum under the girls table using the dust buster and I am right in front of you struggling to not give birth, get off your effing phone and take the vacuum from my hands before I beat you with it.

When I spend an entire 90 degree day outside with the girls in the pool and I somehow manage to get three loads of laundry done, a delicious dinner in the crock pot and vacuum the whole house, do NOT sit down at dinner with a bowl of cereal.

When I am telling you my never ending list of things to do to the house/nursery/any room in the house due to my insane nesting/anxiety/overall mess of being so hormonal, do NOT mention what a B word I am being. You will get no laundry and no lunch made for you for the duration of my pregnancy. And probably a while after that. I mean does this really need to be said out loud?!

Do NOT make a smart ass remark about my inability to stop by Babies R Us for hangers without leaving with a king size Kit Kat bar. Even if it is the 5th time in a week I've stopped by Babies R Us for hangers.

Do NOT come home from work and tell me how "hard it was to fall asleep last night". I will seriously chop of your gonads while you sleep. With a butter knife.

DO offer to carry the laundry/vacuum/floor lamp I just spray painted/WHATEVER I AM CARRYING up or down the stairs. Again, I will make you wear your underwear inside out for the next however many weeks because we both know you won't do your own laundry.


Don't get me wrong...I love him, blah blah. Without him we would literally fall apart, and yes he is smart. But a different kind of smart. Not wife smart. Like I sometimes look at him and ask "What in the FUCK are you thinking?" Can men seriously be so clueless? And so smart at the same time? Is it just a game? Are they actually better game players than we are? Let me just say, I am completely aware of what a raging bitch I can be at times, but I think in my current whale of a condition that I am allowed to be. Am I wrong?

AND CAN A GIRL PLEASE GET A DAMN SONIC SLUSHIE WHEN SHE ASKS FOR ONE?!

Love you tons!

XOXO,

Your insanely hormonal wife.





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