The Tree Spirits or whatever gods I believe in are trying to tell me that I’m fucking crazy… According to the Mister.
Yeah. That totally makes sense. Right?
Yesterday I was afraid that I was having another ovarian cyst problem and then, in a moment of serious mental instability, thought, Hey, I could be ovulating! I should totally go home and do it and see what happens! So, I came home from seeing Twilight for the second time, more than willing to have sex (which may or may not have had something to do with daydreaming about a hot vampire and not entirely having to do with possible ovulation…)
The Mister, when I told him my thoughts of insanity, didn’t laugh his ass off, or punch me in the nose, he actually said “Well, what the hell? Why not? It’ll save us twenty grand.” (We are might be planning on a third child, which means a third IVF cycle…) Um, okay… I expected to be talked off the ledge, not encouraged.
So, we discussed it briefly… I asked what he thought I would do if I actually did get pregnant and he said “You would be excited.” Not insane, excited. Not more insane than I already am. Excited. Okaaaaaaay. So he said let’s give it a go…
Today was a hectic, crazy afternoon. We took the kids to dinner after gymnastics and they were both little Demon Children. Seriously. They got the stink eye throughout dinner and many a talking to from us. Not that it mattered. Henry pulled his little stamping his feet like he’s running in place temper tantrum, threw food all over the place, ate the crayons and screeched like only Baby Henry can. Avery had to have everything just so, etc… Not a particulary pleasant dining experience.
We got home, got them to bed and then the Mister, in passing, mumbled that the Tree Spirits, or whatever I believed in, were trying to tell me that I’m fucking crazy. Meaning that I was psycho for proposing we have another kid at this juncture in our lives…
So, we went back and forth on who the crazy one actually is… HE was the one that said let’s go for it. He was the one that said we’d be excited, not freaked out. He was the one that said it’d be okay… That neither of us would be committed (he was really referring to me and probably lying) and that we would both be baby ga-ga if it actually happened. Him.
So, people, you tell me who the gods are speaking to… Who the crazy person is here… He’s the one that encouraged it… I’m the one that took three benadryl, drank a few beers to enhance the effects and passed out on the couch before I had to feign a headache. You tell me, am I the crazy one? Hell to the no.
Don’t be making fun of the mother fucking tree spirits, people.