Shit My Husbands Says

Admittedly, that was a corny title. However, this message was not approved by William Shatner, and if they really are thinking of making a franchise for random Twitter-spewed quotes I want in on that honey wagon.

One of my favorite people in the entire planet is my husband. I am blessed to have married one of the most loyal, weird, and slightly deranged people I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

Sometimes you have to be outside of the moment to appreciate the humor of what he has said though. I mean way outside… like months afterwards, but he is happenstance funny so sometimes you have to remove yourself from the situation to see the humor (Damn MTV to hell, I can’t type that word without giving it a Jersey accent). Now that I am no longer round with child I can see the humor in *some* of his verbal missteps during my pregnancy.

Take for instance…

Pregnancy ponderings:

If you end up getting a c-section do you want me to ask them to do a tummy tuck while they’re in there?

While massaging my eight months pregnant feet:

Your feet feel like they are made of gel packs.

Just in general I can’t believe he said this to a pregnant lady… multiple times:

Man, your moody today.

While we were in a doctors appointment talking about healthy weight gain during pregnancy, my doctor had asked what my diet was like. In general it was pretty healthy, but the one time my husband decided to pipe up throughout the whole visit he said:

What about the 7 cupcakes you ate yesterday?

Editor’s note: Broadcasting a pregnant lady’s moment of weakness is generally frowned upon… especially when that woman is carrying your progeny.

But you’ll never sleep again!

Told ya I was pregnant...

I have pouted on here plenty of times about the things you don’t hear about when people want you to get knocked up. There is, however, one of thing people lurve to talk about- how little sleep your going to get for the rest of your ever loving life. I have heard it almost as many times as people have said congratulations, or questions me about what kind of kid I am having (answer: human, girl).

Don’t get me wrong, I have been tired ever since my third trimester hit me (like a ton of sleepy, chubby bricks). In fact, I may or may not have slept for 20 hours recently, waking only long enough to eat and check my email every four hours. I think I am learning a little something about this “tired” thing. But, anyone who has ever raised themselves an infant would be completely offended by my claiming any kind of knowledge of tired.

However, I remember surviving quite swimmingly on four hours of sleep. In fact, I fondly remember burning the candle at both ends on four hours of drunk people sleep- which we all know is the worst kind of sleep a person can get. And it wasn’t even that long ago. Getting up for class with the smell of stale smoke, fries and vodka permeating not only my breath, hair and clothing, but a measurable amount of air space surrounding me. Dragging my hungover butt to class. Eating cheese filled bread sticks and sucking down my weight in espresso during class breaks. Working, studying, then off to grab drinks and dinner with friends again. The cycle repeats. Four hours was a lucky stretch sometimes.

Aren’t I just replacing the smell of cigarettes, booze and fried food with the varying smells of diapers, baby powder and milk? And isn’t the quality of my rest going to be at least a teensy-bit better since I won’t be sleeping under the influence? I have to be missing something when those parents are laughing and lauding the sleeplessness that awaits me, since, you know, ‘I don’t even know what tired is yet.’

It seems a badge of honor that parents have bestowed upon themselves- this not sleeping and all thing- so I have refrained from questioning. But I do hope that Baby Monkey Meiners is as much a fan of late night dance parties and crappy nighttime television as I was in college because we evidently have lots of those in store for us. How else are we going to fill all of those sleepless hours, right?