Picture the scene if you will. About a year and half ago I walk into my bedroom to see my 3 month pregnant wife crying. Immediately I go into protection mode. I do not like it when one of my girls cry and get a very Viking attitude about it. I will pillage and plunder until the wrong is righted.
I ask my wife who is responsible, who has slighted her honor. She responds by telling me that she just felt like crying and started. Then she says that she looked at the dog and the dog looked sad.
Let me repeat that: The dog looked sad.
What the hell dude.
Our dog is a boxer and has a great face and is hands down the best sick dog ever. He will curl up with you anytime you feel bad and it is greatness. But to look sad? That is why she was crying? Again I declare what the hell, dude.
And thus I was initiated into the world of pregnancy hormones and the ravage that they play on the emotions of my wife. Within 10 minutes she was fine and no longer crying, much to my great relief. I do not deal well with women crying, especially my wife. I will give her whatever she wants and I am finding that I have that trait with my daughter. The pony is already ordered.
Fast forward to present day where my wife is again in the early stages of pregnancy. Even though I’m ready for these types of things now, I still have no idea how to handle them.
So welcome to my world. A world in which you are superdad, but no one will ever know. There is no winning here. There is no victory parade. There will be no movie and there never will be a plaque exulting your greatness.
My daughter just had her first birthday which went off without a hitch. I ‘ve told the story but not the aftermath.
Again my wife and I are in the bedroom after the party. She looks dead at me and informs me that we need better communication. It’s a blindsided hit and I expect she’ll be fined by the commissioner on Tuesday. I have no idea where this is coming from. So I ask. That is mistake number one, let’s count them up shall we?
I am gently informed that I did not return home before the party and the balloon herding incident. Mind you, that was only a 30 minute window to get them and come back. I thought nothing about it. I have a car full of balloons, chicken nuggets reeking the front seat and a fruit plate slowly going in the back, why the hell would I go home?
Mistake number two. I suggest, ever so slightly, that she is crackers. I point out that what she is saying makes no sense. Don’t call your wife looney, it’s a bad idea. I agree that things escalated at that point and I take full blame for it. I also took a 10 minute brunt of reasoning that I can’t follow about how I need to learn to communicate more.
Mistake number three: After listening to this I realize that this may be another hormone thing from our new pregnancy. I bring this up as a possible reasoning for this conversation. Other soon to be dads out there, please take heed—never, ever, ever, never in your long life blame pregnancy for craziness. Don’t do it. When you think you are going to do it, punch yourself in the face and save yourself some pain. Go outside, get Mr. Trusty Hammer, and drive a nail into your kneecap.
The barrage that followed next is somewhat a blur from the concussion that I received. I have only flashes of words coming at me. There might have been a midget, I’m not really sure. The xbox was blamed, my solid companion. The lack of my phone usage was in there somewhere. And I’m sure that it was pointed out that I, in fact, was not growing life inside me and had no idea what a trail that was and how hard it was and the morning sickness and the back pain and the not lifting, and the morning sickness again and the pain of childbirth and I’m selfish and the morning sickness and the swelling of feet and the morning sicknesss…………………………………………………..
That’s all I remember. That’s it, no more than that. I am sure it was over when she started snoring next to me and I started to come out of my state of shock.
Mistake number four: I vaguely remember laughing at the silliness of it all and how absurd that it sounded to me. This actually woke her up. I kid you not, this is a bad idea. She had argued herself asleep and woke up. I should have shut it. I couldn’t help it though, who falls asleep during an argument?
She didn’t have much left in her this time and soon started to get back down to earth. When we argue I make my wife “hug it out” as the term is used. I know, complete guy cliché, but it makes me feel better. She protested at first but loves it anyway. Her last parting shot was to remind me not to blog this or that the dog made her cry.
Mistake number five.
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