Stop By....Anytime

Hey how are you?  Thanks for stopping by.  Let me tell you, we've been busy. The yard isn’t what it used to be, I've managed to get the grass cut but had to stop there.  I was all set to trim the hedges when there was a red alert diaper change and then an impromptu nap time in my arms…..end of workday.

Don't mind the barking, the dogs do that now, a lot.  A new development.  A cry for attention (I know all about crying these days).  They like to make a fuss and then look to me with those precious moments eyes, pouring it on thick with their best In the Arms Of A Stranger stares.

Anyway, welcome inside…

Watch your step, my wife’s breast pump/purse is on the floor near the door. She must have dropped it when she came home,stumbled through the door exhausted, mumbling something about school. Oh watch that!  Let me move the car seat, weave around the diaper bag and then sidestep the recycling…..there we go!  I should take that out.

How's my wife you ask?  Oh uh, I saw her a couple of days ago, passed her in the hallway. It was her turn to shower, long overdue I'd say. We're thinking about both showering one day and having dinner....at the dinner table....together. 

Are you okay, you look....uncomfortable.  Here, look at this picture of my son I took yesterday!

Please excuse the mess, we run the dishwasher at all hours like a hospital kitchen. The laundry grows like kudzu, piles of twisted and tangled outfits that climb from the floor while overtaking shoes, books, and even small furniture. Wayward socks can be found, one here, three there. Their infestation is stifling, nesting in corners of the house, behind chairs, seeping into drawers, and between sofa cushions along with the hats, jackets, pants, and diapers, plenty of diapers…

Oh you went to see a band...at 10 pm.  I was asleep at 9, but I'll play some music, just shake one of the toys in the pack-and-play to hear some tunes. Catchy huh? I find myself humming them at work.  Other’s make loud zinging sounds that prompt the dogs to bark and the cat to dart down the hall….oh yeah, we have a cat…

Let me get you something to drink…actually if you can just open the fridge and grab a water for me….the top shelf is breast milk, not bad with Cheerios if you're in a bind.

Wow, haven’t seen you in a while, how have you----hang on, Mason, give me the nuk, No!  Sorry about that, the dogs love these things, pretty expensive treat you know?

But we're getting by, working on four months now.  And you know what they say, after the first year you're in the clear...

What?  Don't they say that?

Oh, leaving so soon?  I feel like you just got here. Oh well--can you take this diaper genie bag out to the trash on your way out?

And here's one last picture of....Oh okay...See you later!

Found!

I am happy to announce that my wedding ring has been found, placing me back in the good graces of my wife. The good news came when I received a call from a coworker who had found the ring that I lost two weeks ago while he was on vacation. 

Where was it you ask?  Safely tucked away at the bottom of a paper tray in the printer of course!  My wife is very pleased to say the least, and I’m happy I don’t have to shell out the extra cash for a new wedding band.  

But I may need to get this thing fitted, it’s loose and wobbly and I'm beginning to think I have shrunk. Without the slightest regard to what I was actually saying,I told my wife it must be due to the weight I’ve lost during the pregnancy.  This remark was not well received and may have negated any points I earned for finding the ring.  It seems that some of us take the long road to enlightenment...

Our Grown-up House...

The other night as my pregnant wife was watching Law & Order, I was reading a magazine on the couch, resting my hands that were aching from giving yet another wonderful foot massage, (I know, poor me).

I began to think how much things have changed.  I used to have subscriptions to magazines such as Spin and Rolling Stone, now I get The Saturday Evening Post and Reader’s Digest, (must be why I keep getting AARP mailers).  I set the magazine down and let out a deep yawn.  A commercial came on advertising a hearing aid.  When did this place become such a grown-up house? 

A few examples:

• A few Saturday night’s ago, I fell asleep watching CSPAN. 
• I listen to NPR on my morning commute.
• I have a pedometer app on my phone.
• While it's bad enough that we DVR Saturday Night Live, we often exchange baffled looks when the wierd musical guest is announced.
• I laughed out loud last week after receiving a facebook invite to a weeknight event for a friend’s band that started at 10pm. 

Now this isn’t some self-depreciating post written to make myself sound grown up or intelligent, trust me, I’m not.  I get excited when it’s middle school week on Jeopardy.

The adultness continued as I checked the fridge: skim milk, fruit, and bottled water.  I opened the cupboards:  Triscuits, cranraisins, and gasp, wheat crackers.  How did this happen?

Part of it is due to age, but I know who is to blame for the rest.  Over the years my wife has greatly influenced my eating habits.  For instance, the other day at lunch I was at Subway when I thought to myself, Man, I wish they had feta cheese. Trust me, I’m not proud of this.

Before she came along, I sustained life on a breakfast of sausage egg and cheese biscuits and sweet tea. Lunch was eaten at whatever place was cramming the most food into a grease stained box and handed through a drive through window.  A home cooked meal was considered anything with instructions on the back of a box.  It’s a good thing I played basketball…

Anyway, the next morning as I ate my cheerios and blueberries before heading off to work, I thought about the night’s observations.  Wow, I’ve come a long way in the past few years.  I’m such a grown-up, look at this place, everything is in order, with adult themes and adult decor, I can’t wait until the baby comes and we can kid this place up a bit.  Now just where did she hide that Halloween candy?

Why My Wife Can't Have Nice Things...

My wife has great taste, and she likes nice things.  In a perfect world she would have plenty of nice things in the house.  Pristine light colors would shine throughout, delicate and fragile items would be left safely on shelves.  The laundry room would smell of flowers and toilet seats would remain forever fastened down securely.  Instead she lives with me and two male dogs.  Even our cat is male.




Mason

 She likes hand towels and nice smelling soaps.  I like doing yard work and picking up the first thing I can find to wipe the dirt off my hands.

She likes seasonal smells and glade plug-ins.  I come home from basketball sweaty and smelling less than seasonal.

She likes dryer sheets and lavender smelling detergents. My socks sometimes get crunchy and need to be tapped with a hammer before washing.

She likes accent walls and themes that flow throughout the house.  I like sports.

And now we’re having a boy.  That leaves her sufficiently outnumbered.  In a house full of males she tries her best to keep things presentable. 

The other day we were putting together the dresser in Simon’s room when my wife said simply, “Your shoes!” I realized that I was still wearing my shoes, the same shoes that I'd worn to walk the dogs through the mud and the puddles as they had played creek, rolled in the grass, and frolicked in the woods.  I looked down at the untarnished white carpet and then back up to my wife like a child caught in the act.  Crap.

I gently eased off of the white carpet, shamefully removing my shoes in the hallway when I noticed Mason--our puppy, stretched out on the bed, sound asleep on the white comforter. This is why my wife can’t have nice things.

Stuff My Wife Says..Vol I

Once again I'll go to the endless well of material that is my wife.  She is especially amusing when it comes to a good quote, every day she says something that makes me laugh, sometimes intentionally, other times not so much.  Being pregnant has only enhanced her ability to butcher a song title or come up with a zinger.

For instance, the other day, after trying on a couple of maternity shirts that had arrived in the mail, she seemed discouraged.  

"What’s wrong?"  I asked, noticing her annoyance.   

“This shirt looked much cuter on the mannequin.”  She replied, flapping her arms.

Now I'm not sure how a headless, anorexic pregnant mannequin looked cute, but I kept this to myself.

At times I have to hide my laughter because she’s completely serious.  Here are a few other gems from this weekend:

When I asked about old Christmas cards:  “Either keep them or throw them away.”  As opposed to donating the cards, with our picture on them, to the Goodwill

When she picked up my new Iphone:  “I can take a picture and text it!”  This is a special feature that has only been around for twelve to fifteen years.

When she was unhappy with a picture of her I posted on facebook:  “It’s because you were sitting down when you took the picture.”  It's all about the angles...

Looking at the elderly neighbor’s tall grass a few houses up from our house:  “I think we should cut his grass this week.”  We also need to give her a back massage...

Feeling our dog’s ears this morning as we woke up:  “We may need to get him some ear muffs.”  I’m 90% sure she was kidding on this one, but if I see my dog wearing a furry pair of ear warmers I won’t be totally surprised.

These are just a few of the things my wife says that keep me laughing.  Whether intentional or not, it’s just another entry on the long list of reasons of why I will be forever entertained by this wonderful woman. 

Pampering...

According to these highly informative and extremely male-friendly baby books my wife reads, our little guy will be doing quite a bit of growing this week which may slow her down a bit.  So I've decided to take it upon myself to help out around the house.  I’ll start small, putting the toilet seat down, maybe a little vacuuming, and perhaps I will even cook dinner a few nights this week.  Let’s see, I can do grilled cheese, Ramon noodles, Chunky soup, or frozen pizza.  She can relax as I light the candles and serve up a romantic dinner for two, well three I guess.  I’ll follow this up by giving her a whine-free foot massage.

It’s the least I can do to show my appreciation.  We’re approaching Week 23 and she’s handling this pregnancy thing like a boss.  (although she has been kind of bossy lately…but that’s for another post.)   Her great attitude and positive outlook on things have countered my incessant worrying and she’s even managed to put me at ease….at times.   With her leading the way, we just might raise a child free of mental dysfunction. 

I’m truly amazed by her stamina and attitude.  She’s teaching full-time, joining me for walks with the dogs, and still coming up with projects for us to do at home--which is great of course because I really hate watching football on Sundays...

The Texter...

The Ipone Texter

Today it occurred to me that many of my blog posts are at my pregnant wife's expense. Each week I've been throwing her under the bus for a few cheap laughs or a humorous anecdote. While she's been such a good sport, (and an excellent source of material I would add), that it never crossed my mind that what I consider light-hearted humor, could be interpreted as mean spirited or lacking respect.  So from here on out, I will no longer make fun of my wife's hilarious but unintentional behavior at home.

Okay, well maybe just one last time.  At lunch with family today she referred to my cousin's phone as a texter.  The texter, my wife is only 32, this sounds like something your grandmother woud say. I can just see the Iphone 5 commercials announcing this great feature.  Hurry and get the Iphone 5 texter now!  The Iphone emailer coming soon! Some of this stuff is just too good to pass up.

On the way home I brought up the texter thing and she mentioned to me that she had decided to start her own blog.  She's going to detail my odd and often neurotic behavior for the world--or the 5 people that read my blog--to see. This would be quite the accomplishment, as she is about as tech savvy as our cat, who accidentally changes font sizes walking on the keyboard.  So in the next few weeks, if you come across some sort of mymoronhusbandisanidiot blog, enjoy it, and be sure to alert your friends on your texters! 

Fashion Dense

You can't teach this...

I can only hope that I will pass on my spectacular fashion sense to my child. I have always been known for having a keen eye for prevailing trends when it comes to dress, and I would like to pass this on as my father did for me.

Shopping at the Goodwill, I find the latest gently worn khakis that make great cut off shorts, as well as T-shirts announcing all sorts of odd events ranging from family reunions to fund raisers for schools I have never heard of.  I've even been stopped and asked about events on the back of my shirts, shrugging as I walk away, unaware of just what that crazy person was talking about.

Sure, my wife makes me buy clothes in actual stores from time to time, but at home while cutting the lawn or walking the dogs, it is all me.  This is when I’m free to dress myself with reckless abandon, black or blue socks with shorts, along with that paint splattered T-shirt my wife keeps trying to toss out behind my back.  Weekends mean yard work, and it becomes a one-man fashion show as I head out in my thrift store best to tackle the chores of the day, you’re welcome neighbors.

If we have a girl, I’m sure my wife’s influence will guide her along safely.  A boy?  Well he will have big shoes to fill, as I come from a long line of dapper men who know all about proper yard work attire.

Where Is My Wife?

Somewhere the woman I married just last summer is being held hostage.  The gentle, soft-spoken wonderful woman whose bright smile always made everything wonderful is tied up in an abandoned warehouse as a ransom note has been lost in the mail.

In her place is a 5'2" 2nd grade school teacher that's been living in our house...and I'm absolutely terrified of her.

She almost killed the cat this morning.  As a scratching noise was heard in the living room I went to go check on things as to make sure the cat wasn’t clawing our new couch, but my wife, or her stand in rather, was all over it. 

The house shook with the force of a class 5 tornado as what sounded like a truck came crashing into the room with a roar that was heard two streets over.  It was her, she scooped the cat up and I was sure he was a goner.  NOoooooo! she bellowed from the depths of which I had no idea existed.  Instinctively, I took a few steps back, attempting to get out of the line of fire.  I noticed the dogs had already abandoned ship leaving me to fend for myself.

After giving the cat and I a look that would give Seal Team Six the shivers, everything fell silent.  She walked back down the hall to the bedroom to continue getting dressed.  After catching my breath, I let the cat, with his 8 remaining lives, outside and noticed the dogs had taken shelter in the sun room. Nice job guys... 

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