Dear Husband

Dear Husband,

Growing a human being is no simple task, I thank you for your patience and understanding while I flit about the house ranting about your muddy boots and coffee stains on our white cupboard doors. While I often feel justified in these moments of pure, seething, indignation I know I am sometimes in the wrong. Key word: sometimes. I want to apologize for two moments where I confess, I was wrong.

About six months in, on a Saturday morning, all I wanted was a breakfast burrito and we were out of potatoes. A breakfast burrito without potatoes is just a weird burrito that happens to have an egg in it, don’t kid yourselves people. You refused to go the store at 9AM because you hadn’t showered yet. I remember watching our friend Elliott literally jump from the couch to get his pregnant wife a glass of water when she vaguely mentioned she was thirsty. You need a shower? A shower to go to the one grocery store in our population 2000 town that no one will be at at 9AM? Cue the insane, hormonal water works. I had successfully guilted you into the shower but I was not nearly finished being crazy. Dripping wet you found me in the kitchen frying the potatoes I had managed to purchase and return with before you even reached for the conditioner. And you said nothing, you let me relish my “take that!” moment with a quiet, confused apology in your eyes.

Much like the time you stomped through our house in your boots in mid-winter and I asked you to please, please, stop doing that. I spent the morning plowing through laundry, painting the nursery, and watching our roomba struggle to pick up the dirt clods and stickers littering our floors. Hours later you returned, boots still firmly planted on your feet, and terrorized our house yet again like Charlie Brown’s friend Pig-pen come to life. Arm-waving was now in play, high-pitched pregnancy induced hysteria on full throttle, “I spent the WHOLE DAY using the robot vacuum to clean up after YOUR mess. And now I have to turn it on again and start ALL over.” Yes. The robot vacuum, the vacuum that automatically cleans our house with the push of a button. How dare you? Again, you said nothing, removed your boots, and let me rave like a too early released lunatic.

Honestly, I think you got off pretty easy over the past nine months. However, I recognize and apologize for these two incidents where a perceived justification turned out to be totally uncalled for nonsense upon later reflection. If we learn anything from these moments it’s that sometimes it’s best to say nothing and other times you should just go buy the damn potatoes. And I think we should both be thankful I didn’t have a pregnancy like this lady.

XO

Your Loving Wife

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