Random Acts of Crazy

So, in what I'm deeming pregnancy-related "random acts of crazy", I've turned in to a raving lunatic. It's true. I yell (no, seriously, like usually at the top of my lungs) at anyone on the road that I believe is doing something stupid. And there is a whole list of things that make my stupid list: driving too fast, driving too slow, not using blinkers, cutting Debs off in the Whole Foods parking lot...stuff that I would normally chalk up to people just being Houston drivers, now has me screaming and, on some occasions, showcasing choice hand gestures. Yes, I'm a grown-up and I know better, but I'm telling you, it's not me doing this. The popular theory is that I'm recognizing it's not just about me anymore...that I'm realizing I have someone else to take care of, too. I like that theory. It makes me sound more sane than I actually feel.

Thomas does a fairly good impression of me pregnant, and it is pretty hilarious. Not that I'm giving him props or anything - I do provide a rather substantial amount of material for him to work with. Those who have heard it have been demanding a video post of it for the blog. I'll see what I can do. I promised to put it all out there on the blog, so this should be part of it. I will give you a sneak peek...in response to most of his questions pertaining to why I haven't done something (like, fold laundry or move from the couch in the last 6 hours), my response is "I'm busy creating life here...what have you been doing today?" Needless to say, he doesn't much care for that response, and has on more than one occasion (I have witnesses) told me (jokingly, I think) that all the tiredness and other pregnancy symptoms are mental and totally in my head, and therefore get my butt off the couch and fold laundry. (Note: I'm not bashing Thomas anymore than he is being mean to me. We love each other more than anything in the world, and both happen to have a wicked sense of humor.)

In all honesty, he really has been the best husband possible during this insane time. He looks at the 35 different Pottery Barn Kids nursery images with me, he makes runs for required food and drink at odd times of the day, and he suffers nightly beatings from my body pillow as I shift from side to side.

I'm a lucky girl...