Pregnancy Camp Sign Up!

Remember how I told you about the Hubster being so sweet and congratulating me on not becoming a whale? Turns out that’s the only good thing about my pregnancy. Okay, I get that sometimes I may be a little hard to handle but it’s not like I go unprovoked.

Like the time I had just gotten done painting in the baby’s room and was washing my hands and Jordan marches over to make sure that I wasn’t going to leave my paintbrushes in there. That’s when someone else takes over and my head does that thing like Chucky and it turns real slow and I say “Do you fucking think that I am going to leave my shit in there? Jesus Christ, I’m just trying to wash my effing hands!” but it also doesn’t help the situation when he walks away from me and says “This bitch is crazy” under his breath. Once my face returns to a normal color I have to laugh because I can’t believe how ridiculous I’m being. I have NEVER pushed my husband so far as to have him call me the “B” word. Still, I don’t think a couple outbursts in 7 months is that bad. They certainly don’t warrant this fantasy he has about Pregnancy Camp.

He keeps telling me how when we’re ready to pork again and hopefully get pregnant that I’m getting shipped off to Pregnancy Camp. Apparently it’s this magical place where husbands send their wives to watch daytime TV and go swimming and talk about our feelings or something.

I guess the husband and wife find out their pregnant, share a hug and then jump in the car and head for camp. Oh, I didn’t mention that the wife gets blindfolded? She does, because “that way, if she tries to escape, she won’t be able to find her way back home”. It’s probably not as bad as it sounds. The preggos get two leaves where they are allowed to visit their husbands for a weekend and join the general population. Jordan tells me that they have excellent medical care there too and you get ultrasounds “whenever you want”.

I cannot believe some of the crap that comes out of his mouth.