I have not been doing laundry. Instead it turns out I’m only sort of doing laundry. I will start a load, and then fall asleep or act pathetic, and then Justin ends up finishing the job. Because the basement floor is cold, and I am kind of exhausted. Sometimes it gets folded, but more often it just kind of hangs out in a pile. It is really a sad situation. I don’t know why I am admitting this publicly, because I am not one bit proud it.
I think what I meant to write about here is what a good man my husband is. He has been in charge of a lot of the chores that I lost all motivation and energy to do during the first trimester. Luckily, I am feeling a bit more industrious in the last week, and even have little nesting urges here and there. I am hoping these urges turn into an all out hormone-fueled cleaning rampage for the rest of the pregnancy, because I really do like a clean house.
In the mean time I know I can count on Justin to make sure we aren’t living in a barnyard and eating off of last week’s pasta-sauce-crusted plates. The trash will be emptied. The litter box will be managed. Dry cleaning is dropped off and picked up. We won’t be wearing dirty underwear. And if we are out of hot sauce, toilet paper, or detergent, Justin is likely bundled up and walking to the Bodega.
I think I have really hit the jackpot. Help with the chores is great, but keep in mind that he is also going through his last semester of law school, bar registration, interviews, and a clerkship without showing any signs of stress. Does he complain? No. The only thing I hear is how much he loves his job. I THINK HE IS MAGICAL. I would seriously be balled up in a corner if I had to deal with all of that. Add a pregnant wife to the mix and I would be balled up on the street corner.
He has also thought up a theme for the nursery, talked about names endlessly, and discussed his excitement for being a dad on many occasions. The importance of camping and introducing the little one to animals has been talked about endlessly. I think he even admitted that he is not scared one bit of dirty diapers. (I just saw him catch a cat puke in mid-air last weekend without flinching). Last weekend, there was a possibility that we would purchase a station wagon, and the man was thrilled. It is seriously his dream car. (edit: “It was a TURBO station wagon, I’ll have you know..”)
He tells me I look cute even though I am a bit round (in the face and the belly). My coat has to be buttoned to keep the baby warm. Any anxiety I have, he calms. Bedtime is at 10, and he feels really bad if I am up past then. He doesn’t judge me for eating salt ‘n vinegar chips everyday for the last 3 weeks. He wants to know when the baby can hear him so he can start talking directly to my belly. And if he gets himself a bowl of ice cream, he knows to scoop for two because I will be stealing half of it. I could write ten more pages like this, but I will spare you.
I really don’t mean to brag, but obviously I think he is the best. He should teach husband classes. With fatherhood just around the corner, I can’t wait to see how he fits into that new role.
I feel so lucky to have him as my partner.
