Paradise Crumbles

Today my acupuncturist proceeded to aggressively induce as the doctors will be inducing next week. Believe me, inducing through herbs and acupuncture is more pleasant than western medicine. Basically, my water could break any time now. I am in hatch mode! Shane rolled in half past midnight after I placed a phone call to wrangle his ass home from Joel’s house. They were enjoying a celebratory night from the Golden State Warriors win over the Dallas Mavericks. As I am due any day now, I thought it would be nice that he watch the game at a friend’s house a few blocks away. Under the condition that he be home before midnight, call in and check up on me, and go easy on the booze as he may have to drive me to the hospital.

Instead, he strolls in with not a care in the world as I am profusively infuriariated, fuming from every pore of my body. Have I been too lenient? I am fully pumped with hormones and I have yet to take a bite out of the mood swing cake. My husband is completely clueless when it comes to pregnancy. I have to remind him that my case it’s abnormal. My emotions have not been sporadic. I have not gouged his eyes out for eating a carrot stick to loud. I have not burst into bouts of crying over a bottle of olive oil. I have not suffered heart burn, acid reflux, or constipation. I have been happy as a humming bird considering my diabetes. He is clueless as to the authentic symptoms of a pregnant woman.

I proceed to lash him with the third degree, yet his slurred response is, “What’s your problem? Why are you pissed?” I could’ve have tossed him off the top floor deck into the backyard. Yes sir. I blacked out in anger. I excused myself from the bedroom, to put it nicely. There’s no use in conversing with a drunken babbling monkey. I couldn’t tolerate his presence. I have given this man complete party privileges during the past nine months and the one time I want him be responsible, it backfires. Typical. Just my luck, you can't train a dog to stop sniffing ass. Is it my fault? Is it my fault for being so easy going? Is it my fault for being self-reliant?

Maybe I should have played victim and allowed him to pamper me during the pregnancy. Now that I have swollen into buoyant proportions and unable to navigate easily, he still wants me to cook him dinner. That is my life. I have spoiled my husband and this is the hell I have created. I feel trampled. Used. Because he has been insensitive, during the entire pregnancy. He has not showered me kindness, nor sympathized with me in the past nine months. Sob. Note to self: being easygoing has it’s downside. I hate to say it, but paradise is in trouble.

This is Shellie coming to you from the living room couch, I bid you good evening or in this case good morning.