Now I Really Need a Vacation

I deserve a medal.

I really do.

I didn’t kill my husband.

He said something the other day which mandated such an action, but I refrained.

Brett has been super sweet lately, helping around the house, doing the heavy lifting, running out nightly at 11:30 p.m. to satisfy pregnancy cravings for McDonald’s cheeseburgers and chocolate milk.

I say this to convince my male readers that brownie points DO matter. If Brett hadn’t been working his hiney off to be on my good side, he might be dead right now.

Instead, he is living, breathing, and only slightly scorched.

“What could he have said?” One might wonder.

I was reflecting on how tired I have been lately. Brett and I were tucked into our marital couches for the night, and I tried to explain my level of exhaustion.

“I’m just SO tired. If I could only have a little vacation, maybe just take a couple of days off,” I said with a yawn.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” says the currently unemployed man who impregnated me. “In just a little while, you’re going to have three months off.”

Now do you see why he should have died?

Ah, the lights are going on.

I tried to control the disbelief and hysterical laughter that bubbled in my throat. “Having a baby is not the same thing as taking a vacation, you big ox!” I shouted.

“In a little while? IN A LITTE WHILE?! Five months is NOT a little while,” I further expounded, red-faced. “Spending time with a newborn is not the same thing as vacation in the Bahamas! How could you even compare the two?” I was nearly crazed with the notion.

The man is in store for a rude awakening, if you ask me.

I sputtered on for a while until I finally ran out of steam. Brett backed down eventually, and finally did what I’d wanted him to do from the beginning of the conversation, and just agreed with me.

Yes dear, he also thought I needed a vacation.

All I’d needed to hear.

I was still pretty hot under the collar, but Brett knows his wife. He plied his way back into my good graces with a midnight run to McD’s and a half gallon of chocolate milk.

I wonder what he’s going to do when I don’t have pregnancy cravings that have to be satisfied?

Either way, he better start building those brownie points back up. The bank just cashed most of them in!