After showering, a quick hair fix (ponytail again..) and a touch of cover up in an attempt to disguise the "puffiness", I start to get dressed. From my own perspective a pregnant lady getting dressed is kinda like watching an elephant doing the hula. I can barely lift my legs off the ground because of the "strained ligament" episode (remember the frozen peas) and pulling up elastic waistband pants has become a task in and of itself. Just the act of wriggling into pants these days leaves me winded. And, its not like I can bend far enough over to put my foot in normally...its like a crap shoot trying to wrangle a foot into straight-leg maternity pants.
Todd: "You're being so loud."
Me: Oh no you didn't. "Really? ....Really? Am I being as loud as you are the other 4 days a week when you get up at 3:30? And, PS its a lot quieter in the kitchen."
Me: "Ya know, in the kitchen, where I usually am cooking your breakfast in the morning. Forget it - I'll have breakfast at my parent's house."
Todd: "But, I don't even shower in the morning."
Right. The stranger in my dream was right - I just don't get along with people! As I head into the kitchen even more irritated because there's a dirty pan on the stove and I SO swear in an OCD frenzy last night I was SURE I'd cleaned the entire kitchen, I realize the pan is full of warm, homemade blueberry oatmeal. And I know what you're thinking: Has she totally gone off the edge and started sleep-cooking too? No.
While I was in the shower, making all that noise, thinking horrible, angry thoughts and cursing the guy in my dream, my absolutely wonderful husband had gotten out of bed (on his day off, at 5:00am) and had cooked me breakfast and before I could even discover this, I had lit into him about how I would have cooked him breakfast even though not once this week have I even had enough energy to think about getting up with him. I AM AN ASS! It's true!