I've turned into THAT wife.

I talk about my husband all the time- but I just realized I rarely refer to myself as a wife. I think it's mostly because of the stereotypical or conventional wifey rituals and actions that come along with wife-dom (nagging, house keeping, more nagging, etc) that I want to steer away from. Two (or is this a list of three or four?) of the best things about my husband- he's probably the smartest, most witty and funniest person I know and he has really nice calves (that I pray our children will inherit.)

One of the areas where we will continue to work: his attention to detail. He literally does. Not. See. Things. Like, seriously. I sat down at the computer the other day (which is by the window with the plants on it- a notoriously filthy area of the house- we have four cats, their interest in the windows + plants = little dirty cat paw prints everywhere.) He sits there working on his course work for his PhD daily. I sat down there briefly the other day to see FILTH. FILTH!!!
I asked him, "come sit here. Tell me what you see." He thought it was a trick question. He told me about the computer, the printer, the windows, Dieter, the cat, a few other things on the table. I said, "Do you see all of the dirt on the table?"

"No. Oh. Wow. Yea, that's gross."

Me, turning purple with fury from the ground up, "I'm mad but I'm glad that the problem is that you don't NOTICE the dirt and it's not that you hate cleaning and you want us to live in squalor. Now clean that shit up."

Yesterday we went to the grocery store. Usually I go alone but I can't really lift groceries by myself without getting exhausted and last time I went alone I nearly pulled an oblique from steering the cart. I took the opportunity to swing down the stationary aisle and I asked Todd which post it note color was his favorite, or which would stand out the most to him. He chose the neon collection...and this morning I, er the dishwasher, got to work leaving him two love notes (see one below.)

I'm that wife. Whatever, I need help at home- as long as this shit gets done, we'll be cool.

The good news is we've become that couple- Todd and I were talking about the girls basketball team he coaches and their parents and their (lack of) parenting skills. One of his players came to practice one day with a Phillies tee shirt that simply stated, "Yank This" on it. Real nice. I remember him telling me about it the night it happened and I suggested he keep his opinions to himself in this case. He brought it up again yesterday because the other day at team pictures, Todd was lucky enough to meet the parents of this little lady, [about the parents] "Sweetie, I'm glad I didn't say anything, I think that dude would've kicked my ass if I did. The mom too." He paused for a few seconds, "when did I turn into a lame dad?" I sat quietly and smiled.

So we're growing up, I suppose.

I had a rough day yesterday- I had a serious case of being stuck in CoachLand after our game that when Lauren texted me this: "Me and the Denneys are going to sit out on the stoop to smoke cigarettes and drink Coors Lights if you're bored."
I was really put off by this (being in my eighth month of pregnancy and all) and replied, "That doesn't sound very fun for me. Thanks though."
Her reply, "I was joking. It's illegal for babies to drink alcohol. I thought you might want to stop by and see your niece and her brother."
"Oh, sorry, really bad day."

I need to lighten up.

I'm taking a step in the right direction by following RuPaul's advice (why do I love taking the advice of flamboyant black wo/men?) that EVERYONE needs to keep up their manicure. It's a sign of self awareness and care. So I'm typing about my "problems" painting one nail at a time at my desk.

Every time I look down at them, I smile. It looks nice.

It's going up to 65 degrees today. I wish my window opened.