Archive for November 17th, 2009

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since discovering my wife was preggo with twins, it’s that I am a large culprit of the stress she feels. Especially now that she’s now larger than she was when she bore our son in January of 2008, and we still have more than two months to go, I see a lot of things that I do cause her unneeded stress.

It’s true; a home without a mom can fall apart pretty quickly: dishes collecting on every flat surface, laundry piling up in between couch cushions, late notices stacking up, toddler fingerprints all over your kitchen knives, matchbox cars in the dryer, boxes from diapers stacked into a fort in the front room where I hide after work…

It’s all happening isn’t it?

I never considered myself one to allow my family to live in filth, but at one point last week I walked downstairs fresh from a shower wearing only a hand towel, stepped over a bag of dirty diapers that had been tossed from upstairs the afternoon prior, and dug into the dirty laundry looking for a pair of drawls only to find a pair of gym shorts that, after a quick smell test, met my low standards at the moment.

That’s when I stopped and took in the carnage. I had completely let the house go to shit while my beautiful wife struggled to even get off of the couch. Combining my son’s recent trip into flu-ville, my wife’s cramming for work related certification tests and my recent increase in work load at the pharmacy – the house was neglected and it was taking its toll on my wife because she felt it was her obligation to keep everything tip top.

Looks like I slipped up. When Julie was dealing with severe morning sickness I took over everything without thinking twice. Laundry routine, dishes routine, bathing and feeding routine, everything seemed doable. Then Julie started to feel better and I fell back into the luxury of having a teammate to help tackle the day to day. Well, she’s gone again.

Her energy level is only above “crap” for a few hours a day, her skin is uncomfortable to be in, her hips seem like they’re made of jello, she has a hard time breathing, her contractions are increasing in frequency and intensity, she feels sorry for not being able to help with anything around the house, oh, and she’s fricking huuuuuuge so nothing fits her anymore! Even my clothes are of little consolation because while I’m an XL, I certainly never pushed a belly out that far, even during my binge drinking years.

I’m happy to help whenever I can, but now it seems like this never ending pile of laundry isn’t going to put away itself.  So I’ve turned off my brain again for full on super-dad mode. I’m now taking each task and just doing them without dread, complaint or avoidance.

I think I’m more prepared for Julie to go on bed rest than she is, seeing as she’s still trying to work a full day AND act awake when she gets home. Maybe the fact that she would be no longer allowed to work by her doctors would give her the message she needs right now, which is to SIT THE F*%$ down, put your f^*#ing feet up and enjoy E!, that crappy John & Kate show and a little soap opera action.

Women carrying babies are like drunk men, they just can’t stop until they’re either hospitalized, sedated or knocked the f*^% out by a flying right cross.

I’m not one to beat a broad up, but I’LL SHAKE THE SH*T OUT OF HER!

Bed rest, here we come, I’m being patient, but you’ve gotta get my wife to sit, stay, good preggo wifey.

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