Simple.Cute. Quick. Me can do!

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Forget it… sex it is…

-dancing in the shower should be reserved for non-pregnant people only.
-there is a bone in my butt… (you probably have one too) and I don’t have enough junk in my trunk to cushion the fall.
-just two weeks ago I was wondering if buying a minivan would completely kill my coolness… this week? My doctor placed the order for a wheelchair. Try to pimp THAT ride…

Nobody is 100% sure what is causing my pain… the baby, my infamous butt land in the shower or maybe it’s just a side effect of my bad attitude… The good news – I got an extra ultrasound and a chance to see my baby boy who was proudly flashing his package right into the monitor… Nice, dude… very nice… not out yet and already making me apologize to innocent OBGYNs.

Pain aside, bed rest is pretty much a definition of a vacation for any stay-at-home-mom… well, that’s what I thought. Turns out – not so much. At the moment Dennis is trying to work from home and watch the baby… at the.same.time… as in simultaneously, concurrently… as in multitasking. It is going really great… unless:

other people on that conference call don’t appreciate the screaming baby in the background…

or you don’t need help typing your emails…

or your computer cord is not baby-saliva proofed…

or you don’t have a baby that plays by herself 12-hours a day…

or you think you can start cooking lunch after the baby informs you that she is hungry NOW! …

but other than that it is all easy breezy… CRAZY! And oh so difficult to watch… and just let it be, let them figure it out, let them find their own rhythm.

Yet in all this madness I have never felt more love and support from my husband and my friends… who pretty much immediately lined up with food and offers to come help watch Leila. They don’t have the slightest idea of how much this means to me… because the fact is the hormones are making me extremely sensitive and I almost have to work at being annoyed with people these days… Like this morning when I asked Dennis if he could fix a curtain and he couldn’t see what was wrong with it and then I tried to explain how this one side is missing a symmetrical fold making the whole house ugly…. and he said:

This is such a waste of time….

I KNOW, RIGHT?! The man clearly doesn’t realize that just because I cannot chase him down I can still smother him with my ginormous thunder thigh in his sleep…

Let’s just say today was the day when the children saved their father’s life.

P.S. The curtain is fixed.

“When did you take this?” – Dennis after I showed him this picture:

What can I tell you – selective hearing is a gift. If I want help I know I will have to either physically shake him, yell louder than Leila or just flash my boobs in his general direction. I have to say though that once I have his attention he will always come and help. I do think, however, that a snail could easily run circles around him, but fortunately for Dennis he is more pleasant to cuddle with. Well, that and he pays our electricity bill.

So somewhere in between drugging the baby, taking a shower and tripping over the attention deprived cat I asked Dennis if he could just clean the kitchen. No.Problem.

I quickly glanced at the calendar to check how many days it’s been since the last time we had sex, because such ardor to do dishes could mean only one thing…. that’s right – a foreplay.

Not two minutes later I hear - the kitchen is spotless! I’m going to the shower! … and I just knew…right there and then – I had a post ready for tonight.

I realize that nowhere on my grave stone is it going to say “she kept her kitchen very very clean”… (but than again, what if it does?  Who knows what is going to be “hip” 70 years from now?) His “clean” and my “clean” is as different as our personalities. Let me know if you can spot all 202 differences.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

But then… I could care less. Maybe because it is hard to complain about a half-ass cleaned kitchen when he spends the rest of the day reading to our daughter…

Exhibit C: