Monday 16 December 2013

Sex with Mum and Dad. No, not like that.



We told our respective parents a few weeks ago when Jenny was in the hospital, mostly because we kind of had to. In a perfect world we would have waited til around the twelve week mark, but then dehydration reared its head and the decision was made for us.

But we hadn’t told our respective siblings who live in other countries yet. We did that yesterday. It was good fun seeing my sister freak out. Her face kind of resembled the OMG Cat for a few seconds and I think she nearly cried. It was pretty funny. Jenny’s brother and his wife were less surprised; probably because we only Skype them if there’s something to tell. I figure they guessed what the news was. 

It was EXACTLY like this, actually.
Anyway, the whole process of telling people is weird. You tend to say things along the lines of ‘we’re pregnant’ or ‘we’re having a baby’ or sometimes you just show them the scan and they start to resemble OMG Cat, but when you do this what you’re really saying to your parents, your brothers and sisters and your friends is ‘WE HAD SEX!’

Which is not something you usually talk about with those people. 

Not in my family anyway.

And, as is usually the case with baby making (at least in my own experience, which isn’t much to be fair) there’s a lot of sex involved. A lot. Like, an exhausting amount. When we told our respective parents about the miscarriage the words ‘we’ve been trying for a while’ were said a lot. Now obviously during that sad time I didn’t vocalise what this translated to in my head.  But really when you say that you’re saying ‘WE HAD A LOT OF SEX!’ to your mum and dad.

Nobody else seems to think this way, except for me. Everybody gets caught up in the wonder and excitement of the impending baby that they forget about the horrible sex preamble. I mean, I know we’re adults and married and that horizontal furniture assembly [insert rod P into slot V] is kind of implied post nuptials, but saying it out loud is bizarre.

Or is it just me? 

Thursday 12 December 2013

"I am a man. And therefore useless."



I am a man.

And therefore, useless.

Okay, that’s a bit of an overstatement, and perhaps just refers to me, but since Jenny has been in and out of the hospital with hyperemisis (I could be spelling that wrong) and now that she’s home has been confined to bed for a large part of the time*, I’ve come to realise that I’m fairly useless.

Now I knew this already. My continued existence on this planet is made immeasurably easier by my wife, without whom I’d probably be living in my own filth [see also, parents]. She does countless things everyday that never enter my sphere of thought, yet with her out of action some of these decisions fall to me.

This is not a good thing.

A previous blog outlined my uselessness when it comes to thinking of food. Well, now that Jenny has to eat little and often she’s not eating at our usual dinner time and it turns out when it comes to cooking for and feeding myself, I lack inspiration or sometimes even the most basic understanding of the fact that I need food to survive. When I’m sitting there at 6 in the evening and start to feel hungry, I visit the kitchen, open the cupboard doors/fridge and stare at the various cans, jars and meat available to me and despite the fact that there are many many things that I feasibly could make, there are very few that I have the patience to actually just make for myself. If it involves anything more than pouring boiling water into it, heating it up in the microwave or at a stretch putting something in the oven, it’s not getting made.

I’ve been eating a lot of takeaways.

This uselessness extends to the house as a whole as well which in the absence of a woman’s touch has fallen into a state of disrepair. Again, overstatement but I know that when I’m sick Jenny continues about her daily duties and chores and everything is as it would be were I still fit and healthy. This is all making it sound like I do literally nothing about the house, which isn’t true but right now by the time I’ve shifted my arse to make something to eat – a process that can take up to and including an hour – I’m either too tired or simply can’t be arsed to do anything like hoover or clean. I’ve occasionally done the dishes but that’s about it.

I’m telling you, this pregnancy lark is fucking exhausting me.

Bye




* everything is fine with the progeny FYI. We had our scan and all’s good. Low risk pregnancy according to the doctor.

Friday 6 December 2013