While I’m only 11 weeks pregnant my poor Hubby has already had to put up with my snapping, constant complaining, non-stop napping, relentless crying, my annoying need to argue against any valid point he makes, pulling my nose up at the offensively suspect smells he seems to be omitting (now that’s probably not a recent thing, but my sense of smell has currently gone off the charts) and then there’s my general inability to do anywhere near as much as I usually do around the house. Even though I’ve been a complete lump and total pain in the arse, he seems to be taking it all in his stride. Let’s also not forget the fact that I have deprived him of sex for almost 3 months! Which I wrote about a few weeks ago; “The Fear: Why I’ve chosen to give up sex and exercise in the first trimester“. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking he deserves a bloody great big medal by now, and to be honest he probably does.
Sure, due to all my hormonal changes he’s had to take on a little more responsibility around the house and with our son, on top of slogging his guts out at work. However, as he’s not always used to tending to parental and household duties on a large-scale, he can sometimes manage to miss a thing or two. Here’s a great example:
One morning I was being assaulted by the dreaded morning sickness. Luckily, Hubby had the day off so I asked if he minded getting The Little Guy ready for preschool. That way I could just concentrate on myself and wrestle with extreme nausea whilst trying to get myself showered and dressed, in peace. With the way I was feeling I just couldn’t bear the thought of spending another morning chasing my naked, giggling son around the lounge room, whilst shouting exasperatingly “sweetie please, this is not a game! We have to get dressed for preschool!”. Why not let Hubby have a go for a change.
Twenty minutes later Hubby has himself and The Little Guy all buckled up in the car and ready to go. Feeling a little better I jump in the car, thank super dad for saving the morning and off we drive. As we get closer to preschool I ask Hubby, “how did you go packing his preschool bag?”. He replies blankly,“bag?”. I think to myself ‘ah crap’, then decide to turn to the back seat and give my son a quick once over to make sure he’s at least dressed appropriately for the day. I look down at his feet in disbelief. Immediately I turn back to Hubby and ask, “umm, honey. Why isn’t our son wearing any shoes?”. Hubby throws me a look of confusion, which quickly turns to annoyance when he realises what he’s done (or should I say, hasn’t done). He blurts out in frustration, “does he really need those things?”. I respond with, “are you freaking kidding me?!”. Hubby proceeds to do a u-turn and back home we go.
Like I mentioned, Hubby has been amazing at picking up the slack lately. But as hard as he tries, he sometimes just misses the small things, which can turn out to be big things. I guess Daddy doesn’t always cut it as Mumma *smirks smugly*.