The Hubs Brushes with Death #1

I love my husband to death. Really, I do. He's funny, quirky and an all around good guy. Plus, he's tall...so any problems reaching the loaf of bread in the top most shelf of the pantry. Not a problem--unless he's deployed and that's a different story.

Still my husband suffers from a disease that a lot of other men out there suffer from. I'm not sure if it's at a 100%, but close enough. It's rarely fatal, but it gets them pretty damn close to meeting their maker. I guess it's all up to how patient their wives are. Either way, that disease is called Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome and it is very serious.

These are in no particular order, but they are all true.

#1

Background: I was about 7 months pregnant with baby #2. I'm not humongous yet, but I'm pretty big. I'm military so that means I need a maternity uniform for whatever inspection is coming up. Because of the massive amount of fabric (I could probably make sails out of them!) and other reasons, I'm sure, those uniforms are expensive! And hardly ever worn. My advice to anyone: try and find someone who already has a set before purchasing brand new ones. I did. My friend is about my height, but she's definitely much slimmer than I am.

Me: Oh! My inspection is tomorrow. I had better go and try on my uniform to make sure it fits, because [my friend] is small.

Hubby: *snort* Yeah...and you're not! [starts to laugh then stops a few seconds in with a terrified look on his face]

Me: *eyes well up and I immediately leave the room*

Me: (thought process) I am this huge, disgusting whale of a woman to him! I didn't think I was THAT big. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, what is he going to think of me in another two months?? *sob*

Hubby: Oh! I didn't mean it like that! Really! I didn't! *pause* Look at me. I'm sorry! It's kind of funny, right? You smiled, right?

Me: *look up at husband and tears fall*

Hubby: Oh my God! I made you cry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean you were fat, I just mean that she's a lot smaller than you.

Me: *eyes widen*

Hubby: ...I mean, you're just bigger--not bigger--she's just really skinny...I mean, you aren't as skinny now as she was--or she is--I-I need to stop talking, don't I?

Me: *cry more and go downstairs*

Hubby was smart enough to stay away. Note to all men with pregnant ladies in their lives: do not ever mention the words fat, big, huge, or anything else that may make that lovely lady in your life think of something big. Good words are: I love you, you're glowing, you're beautiful, etc. Nothing about size should EVER be mentioned around a pregnant woman. We feel big and bloated and like a beach whale most of the time anyway. Don't rub it in.

#2

Background: Links with #1 story. He later went to the store and came home with a surprise.

Hubby: Hey, baby! I got a surprise for you! *smiles wide*

Me: What did you get?

Hubby: *pulls out HUGE package of chocolate*

Me: [still offended from earlier] Chocolate!!? Why!? So I can get even bigger!?

Hubby: [face falls and he sets down the chocolate] N-no. I just-I wanted to make it up to you.

Me: With FOOD? [leaves room]

I think I saw him crack open a beer or two later that night. What can I say? Hormones.

#3

Background: I was talking about what I looked like post-baby...as in, just left the hospital and the first few weeks, post-baby.

Me: I don't think I looked THAT bad after I had Big Man. I felt fat, but I didn't have a huge belly or anything.

Hubby: Well, you definitely couldn't have walked down a run way or anything, but yeah...you didn't look too bad.

Awww, thanks honey. Fist meet face.

#4

Me: Aghhh...why is my house always so messy? There are dishes everywhere.

Hubby: Well, woman, you need to keep doing the dishes. They're not going to wash themselves, you know.

He was definitely joking here...still, I was not in a joking mood and was considering throwing said dishes at his face.

#5

The time he made me wait for a whole freaking year...for a car...a useful car that I SORELY needed...one whole freaking year. And then when they didn't have the exact color I wanted he said we could always wait a few days. No, thanks. I'll take the white one.

#6

Chasing down a crotch rocket in his TRUCK after being cut off by said crotch rocket. [Note: His road rage has gotten muuuuch better. Had it not, it may have ended in divorce.]

#7

Background: At this point, since Big Man was born he was dropped off at daycare exclusively by me. Of course, if I had duty or something then the hubby would HAVE to drop him off; however, that was few and far between. Either way, hubby had just gotten back from deployment and had been home for a little while. I could not drop off Big Man anymore due to my working hours and whatever else.

Hubby: [after a few weeks of having to drop off Big Man] Ahhh...man, I wish it were back to how it was and we could alternate dropping off the baby.

Me: What? Alternate?

In what universe was he living on? Alternate? You mean, I, myself, could drop off Big Man every single day, except maybe a day that I had watch--woah, what a freaking break. I have done this for his whole life and you do this for a few weeks and are suddenly tired of it?

I was seriously contemplating pushing him out of the moving car. 'Oh, what's that officer? No, I have no idea how he ran over himself. I am plainly in the passenger side of the vehicle. Why didn't I stop the car? Well, I didn't want to interrupt a good thing...'

Don't get me wrong, my husband has lots of good features. He's funny, he likes to talk, he's tall and handsome. He's awesome to hang out with and a great Dad. That does not save him, however, from Foot-In-Mouth Syndrome. Ah, well. He can't be perfect, right?