On fighting while pregnant...

And now to follow a lovey-dovey post with one...not so lovey-dovey.

Fighting with your spouse.

It happens.

Before we conceived this little being inside of me, I could count on one hand the amount of times that A and I fought. In ten years.

Now, this is not to say that we don't bicker from time to time, but I am talking about the sort of thing that you don't get over in 20 minutes or that doesn't resolve itself by a good song coming on the radio and you both start singing along and all is forgotten. That sort of stuff happens all the time...well not all the time, but more often than actual fights.

Since being knocked up, the crazy pregnant hormones may have made fighting a bit more common. Twice last week, A and I had fights that ended with me in tears (and remember folks, I am not a crier). Mostly about preparing for baby. Physically, not emotionally. I mean, people, these were fights about curtain rods, and organizing closets, and getting things done. Stupid fights.

Eff You, Hormones

But, they were real in the moment.

Here are the basics:

1. I am not very busy at work right now, so I spend a lot of time in my day planning and researching and planning some more about baby stuff. You all see some of the fruits of it here, but not all. You would truly think I had lost it. Trust.
2. Part of me planning involves me making lists of tasks. Let's call this "The Most Monstrous List of Honey-Do's Evah." or "The Monster" for short.
3. I cannot physically do a lot of the things required to complete The Monster. I know, I know, non-toxic paint would be fine blahbity blah. Here is the deal - Some of these tasks are things that we prepared for before getting pregnant so we went with the cheap paint. Not the healthy paint. Whomps. A freaked out when I stood on a chair the other day to change a light bulb. I assure you that in a house with 11 foot ceilings, you need to stand on a ladder or chair or lift heavy things (like furniture) from time to time to get things physically done.
4. Because I cannot physically do a lot of these things, it may seem to some (coughcoughmyhusbandcough) that my driving need to get these things done has turned me into the worst kind of task master. Sigh.

A has been working so hard at work ever since the second trimester (and my energy) have arrived. The Navy has kept him on 3 section watches, which means every third night he spends the night on the ship and works for 24 hours (weekend or not). On the days he isn't on watch he is pretty much working 12 hours a day. I kid you not, the man leaves at 5:30 am and does not return until well after 6 pm, most times around 7pm. Thanks to this schedule we usually go about 36 hours without seeing each other 3 times a week. AWESOME.

So, who can blame him when he is home that all he wants to do is take a few precious hours to relax, and go to be early? Not I, that's for sure.

But all of the tasks, and the approaching deadline of baby being born and us being-in-charge-of-a-human-being, and all of the staying silent about it finally bubbled up last week.

So, there have been some raised voices. And I may not have the patience that I once had (ha.) for these sort of "discussions". Though my hair is no longer red - the temper is flaring just as hot at certain points - and then come the hot flow of uncontrollable tears, gulping sobs (I am not, never have been, and will never be a pretty crier) and the frustration that I am crying (Why am I crying? This is so stupid!) comes right along with them.

Clearly this is something we will get past. We already have, in fact. My saint of a husband came home Sunday morning from watch all day Saturday and jumped into project-ing. I was an excellent assistant, if I do say so myself and the outlook seems to be great for us being a team again and being on the same page.

And then, then my hunky partner in life and love came home with flowers on Valentine's Day. They are beautiful (and from an expensive florist to boot), but the best part was the note.

"Love, like a house is strong; 

but sometimes needs upkeep.

You are always at the top of my list.

I love you."

Then I cried again.

21 weeks pregnant today!

...and this came in the mail this week. Eeek! Exciting!