Archive | September, 2007

Love Song for Bryan, #437

Why I love my husband:

So, this may come as a shock to most of you, but.. I have an itty bitty independent streak. I don’t know why, and I’m not sure where it came from, but I have a problem ever admitting that I need help. ESPECIALLY from men. If I were hiking and had my arm trapped under a boulder, I would gnaw it off at the joint before I let some male passerby lift the boulder off of me. Why? I DON’T KNOW.

Bryan is so wonderful about helping me when I’m not looking. Instead of asking if I need help, when he knows the answer would inevitably be “No, I’m fine”, he just does it while my back is turned. So if I say something like, “The bedroom really needs some attention,” while we’re getting ready for bed one night, in my head that means: “I know it’s a problem to be solved, and I’ll get to it soon.”

Bryan will hop to it. He won’t ask, he won’t bitch, and he’ll work hard until it’s done. Which is SO awesome, cause that’s one less thing I have to do. Yesterday, we were shopping at Target, picking up things we’d need later that weekend, when I got INCREDIBLY dizzy. I had to sit down on an endcap, for pete’s sake. I took a few minutes to recover, and we went on our way. Rather than have me help him unload the cart, bag the groceries, and do all that jazz, he made me go sit in the deli and wait for him. With my feet up, he specified.

This part of pregnancy is the hardest for my brain to swallow because my body is just physically inable to do everything it wants to do. I can’t bend over as easily, I have to take breaks frequently, and there is a little being inside of me who reminds me when I’ve done too much. (Usually with a swift kick to the kidney.) Bryan picks up the slack before it happens, so I don’t feel like I’m incapable. As silly as it sounds, he gives me some power back by doing this, and it makes it all much more manageable.

He’s a fabulous man, and I am so lucky to have him.

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THIS is what I’m talking about.  See?  Pregnant woman can ROCK.

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An interesting debate.  I, personally, am not fond of anything beyond slight contact.  My husband believes we should dry hump at dinner.

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Freud would have a field day.

Yesterday, my husband beat me home and he was installing a new ceiling fan in the nursery.  We hated the old fan, a piece of junk that made more noise than breeze, and he had picked up a very colorful one to replace it.  I helped him where I could (which, at this point in the game, is not much), and then he left to attend football practice for The Boy.

While he was gone, I washed and febreezed the new bed linens for the crib and placed them where they need to be.  Should our child be delivered, say, tomorrow.. he now has somewhere soft and chic to sleep.  I am in love with this bed set and can’t wait to do more with it.

From the front.

New Bedding

Toile galore.

When Bryan got home, he mentioned the fan and I asked if he had seen the crib.  He went in the nursery and gasped, clasped his hand to his mouth, and went through (what I assumed to be) many phases of “Aww, cuteness”.  Suddenly, over the voice of Tim Gunn, I hear, “Sarah!  C’MERE, C’MERE, C’MERE!”

I was hoping to walk over and share the overwhelming gorgeousness that our nursery is moving closer towards, and instead, Bryan says, “LOOK!  A PENIS!”

Sure enough:

A penis.

So .. see?  It IS manly. (Or gay.)

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A Bit of Insight

I’m one of those lucky gals who have people in her life who don’t mind smacking her around until she can see reality again.  I say this lovingly, because when I’m being a dumbass (and it happens quite regularly), I appreciate those people who stop me and go, “QUIT DOING STUPID THINGS!”

Yesterday, my mother had to get her car out of the shop, so I offered to take her.  I offered on the condition that we HAD to eat at this quaint little place that I adore but my husband hates, so I only get to eat there when I sneak out with my mom.  After a lovely lunch in which I inhaled anything edible within a two-foot radius of my pie-hole, we were in line to check out when I saw an old teacher/friend of mine.

He asked how the baby was doing, like everyone does.  And like I always do, I said, “Oh, it’s fine.  But I hate it.  It sucks.  really.”

He smirked in a way that only he can, and said, “Well, Sarah, when in your life have you ever loved anything you weren’t in control of?  It’s always hot and cold with you.”

I laughed an uncomfortable laugh, but the man was right. (He always is.) I have a slight.. ISSUE.. with control.  It’s something I’m cognisant of, but it’s not anything I struggle to contain. 

So I’m going to work on it.  I actually started working on it last week, when I did two things that pregnant women should NEVER, EVER do in the same day: I stepped on a scale (it’s the first time I’ve actually LEARNED my weight since.. March?), and I went clothes shopping.  How masochistic AM I?  But, since I can’t control my weight or the fact that my ass cheeks are apparently having a feud and spreading to keep from having to come to an agreement about pant sizes, I just bought a larger size of jeans and some macaroons.

I’ve worked on it a lot today, when I had umpteen thousand curveballs thrown at me to juggle WHILE I’m already taking on other tasks.  One of my co-editors made a change to our newsletter without asking (because.. you know.. we’re “co”), and I wanted to go nuts about it.  Instead, I had to breathe in, out, and realize that it’s one more thing I don’t have to do.

And I’ve worked on it where Tony is concerned, too.  I have no idea how, but I have pulled some groin muscle in my left leg.  The pain is so intense that, at any moment, I could look down and not at all be surprised to see a small Tony-fetus clinging to my thigh and gnawing on my muscle.  But it’s beyond my control, so I’m just drinking lots of water and squatting a bit here and there.

On a completely unrelated note: I had my second dream last night about Tony.  He was small, and his blanket was wet, and the nurse handed him to me and said, “Okay, he’s yours.” 

I’ve been so incredibly stressed out for the last month from many, many things.. and that single moment, even in a dream, made it all disappear.

I’m not always in control.  I’m learning to like that.

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