Thursday, October 11, 2018

I Think my Husband is Pregnant

I think my husband is pregnant.

I mean, really. It’s Sunday and he has the day off. He went to mass last night, so he slept in this morning. When I get home he’s outside working in the yard. 

He hates yard work.

I convince him that the bitty baby chipper he borrowed isn’t worth the time and effort he’s putting into the work he’s doing and that I’d rather just throw the tree branches into the pile back behind the house in the tall grass. Because, as I tell him, it makes for good habitat for the critters. 

We live in the country. There is a slough behind our house and tall grass around it. My old Christmas trees and other branches and such find there way into a pile out there. I am perfectly okay with this, but for some reason Tim thinks the pile needs to go. However, he allows me to convince him that the critter habitat is a good idea fairly quickly. Probably because he is tired and frustrated with trying to chop tree branches with a chopper that is not designed to do what he wants it to do.

We go inside and I cook a nice brunch for the two of us. 

Afterwards I lie down to take a nap. Tim does the unthinkable: He clears the table and loads the dishwasher and runs it. Amazing! Then he watches football/takes a nap. He is a true man and able to do both simultaneously. The one thing, I might add, that men are able to multi-task at. But I digress.

The next thing I know I am awakened by, “My love? Do you want one or two shelves in the cabinet next to the toilet?” Personally, having just been disrupted from a nice dream, I don’t care about shelves in the bathroom right now. I am kind, however, and tell him, “Two.” And I get up. I see that he has cleaned up the splatters left by the carpenters in the bathroom. I see that he has been busy with other little projects as well. Then I hear him telling our daughter, who he is yakking with on the phone, that he is going to clean the under-the-counter can opener that I’d taken down last night, because it needed cleaning.

That’s when I realized he is pregnant. 

There is no other possible reason for this blast of cleaning energy that he suddenly has. 

I should be overjoyed because I will now be able to get an undetermined amount of work out of him. But I am tired today, having had a pretty busy week, and since it is Sunday, I just want to relax. He might be pregnant, but I am not. 

This is when I get a taste of what it is like to have a pregnant wife. Tim is relentless. And a bit of a nag. He wants to work around the house and he wants to do it now! So we proceed to work on other projects. We put up the new switch plates, we rehang the can opener. (I must add, however, that after he got done cleaning it, I cleaned it. He only cleaned the inside. I took it apart and cleaned the nooks and crannies and I cleaned the outside. Tim was quite surprised that there were other areas that were still dirty. He also accused me of breaking it when I took it apart. Sigh.)

We did some more work in the yard. We chopped some frames for customers. We organized some items in the garage. All in all it was quite a productive day.

Now, in case you are worried about Tim and how he will fair through the rest of his pregnancy, I should tell you that all will be fine. We were at work over the stove top. I was holding an item in place while Tim fastened it. He complained about suddenly being very hot. I thought perhaps he’d inadvertently managed to turn one of the gas burners on, which indeed he did, but in reality, the heat was just a hot-flash. Apparently the pregnancy is over and he’s moved on to menopause.

By the way, it would have been an elephant. There was a little trunk hanging out.




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