I’ll be the first to admit I’ve been a little bit hormonal lately. It’s hard to keep my mood in check when I’m pregnant. By the time I get home from work, I’m cranky and sore and I just want to relax. Especially on a Monday. So when Nate asked me to come home early yesterday so I could “help him run a couple errands,” I was slightly peeved.
I got home, annoyed, and we rushed through dinner. When I asked what the big hurry was, he explained that we had to go to Men’s Wearhouse. Men’s Wearhouse? I had to race home from work and scarf down my food so we could go to Men’s Wearhouse. Really?!?
“Is this some sort of tuxedo emergency?” I ranted. “This errand couldn’t possibly have been done without me?” I went on and on about how long my day was and how I just wanted to sit down and the last thing I felt like doing was picking up custom-tailored shirts. We walked down to the car and drove through traffic, with me whining the entire way about work, our apartment, money, family…I let loose just about every gripe that could possibly enter my mind. His patient nods only aggravated me more as I concluded with, “I feel like you’re not listening to me sometimes. I’ve told you that my back is killing me. Every single day. I would really appreciate it if I could just come home and relax for once.”
And that’s when we pulled up to the massage parlor.
There were no shirts to be picked up at Men’s Wearhouse. My incredible kind-hearted husband was surprising me with a prenatal massage.
And I felt like the worst wife ever.
I’m hoping it’s just a pregnancy phase and that I haven’t permanently transformed into some sort of crazy person. The massage did help me unwind and I feel much better. Physically, that is. Mentally, I feel really guilty and I’d like to apologize to my husband for…ya know…temporarily losing my mind.
Sorry, Hun. I didn’t mean to snap at you when you left your exercise ball in the sacred nursery area. Remember the other day when my casserole splattered everywhere and I suggested that you see if YOU could do any better? Sorry about that. Then there was the time I bawled for an hour over mashed potatoes. I’m not sure what that was all about. Maybe I should just stay out of the kitchen for awhile. I should also avoid any movies involving animals, single parents, wartime, or Liam Neeson. All of these things seem to set me off. So I’m working on it. And I’m sorry.