You Know Who to Blame

With only 2weeks left, 11 days from now to be more precise, I am in a constant state of readiness.  Readiness to run from my wife's wrath.  With so little time remaining, she's ready to have it all over with, but she's torn.  Every day the twins stay with her, is a another day of fattening up (this not in reference to my wife's waist, as she will assume, but is in fact referring to the size of the twins).  But every night the twins stay with her is another night of lost sleep...and my wife is an angry bear without sleep. 

A few mornings ago she woke up (got up I should say because I don't know if she slept at all), stumbled through the living room, walked passed me, and sat down at the kitchen table, without saying a word.  I put on my most welcoming, sunshine face and in a cheery voice wished her a good morning.  There was no reply.  On closer inspection, I noticed she had bright orange, silicon plugs stuffed in her ears.  Her head slowly rotated until I was centered in her gaze, her brows a deep furrow and her eyes squinted.  She removed one of the ear plugs and said, "It's best if I don't see you or hear you today."  I ran upstairs and hid in my office.  She did speak to me once more, late in the afternoon, to demand lunch, which I made as quickly and efficiently as I could.

I don't blame her.  Her current condition is my fault.  She's doing all the suffering and I'm just waiting for the rewards.  I try to keep that in mind each time she looks at me accusingly.  In fact, I more than try and keep it in mind, I actively do everything I can to make her life easier. 

We've been going out for dinner fairly regularly, trying to keep a sense of normalcy about our lives.  It get's my wife out of the house and out in public (where it's more difficult for her to kill me) and some relief from the confines of our small home.  She prefers to be seated in a booth whenever one is available, that is, until recently.  A few evenings ago we went out to a local fish restaurant (fish is important nutritionally in the third trimester) where my wife requested a booth.  I knew even before we arrived at the table that we were headed for trouble.  Both the maitre 'd and I waited while my wife lowered herself sideways onto the booth bench.  It was clear that there was no possible chance that her new belly would allow her to swivel her legs under the table.  Unless she was planning to eat her meal riding sidesaddle, then her booth dining days needed to be put on hold.  Once again, she turned on the "this is your fault" glare which snapped both the maitre'd and I out of wide eyed stare (that pregnant lady look is a weapon against any man), sent him running to prepare a nice table by the window and me scurrying to help her up.

Honestly, I'm teasing her with this blog entry.  And though the above anecdotes are completely, mostly true, she is doing a wonderful job.  Our twins appear healthy and to be growing well.  My wife is organized and well prepared for their arrival.  If you are reading this and you are a dad-to-be, then I'm warning you, that the last few weeks are difficult.  Your wife will barely be able to get around, she'll be living on very little sleep and probably stressed about the future.  All she wants is for the baby(ies) out of her and healthy.  Of course she's going to have days when she's upset, and when she does, just keep one thing in mind, dad-to-be, this is all your fault.