Accidentally Pissing Off Legions of Pregnant Women

Hypnobirthing does, too, work you HUSSIE.

Usually, the only pregnant woman I piss off is my wife. Like the time I accidentally called her fat. And old. Or the time I let everyone know that the, um, bang-bang train left the station at week 24.

Yet today, I accidentally pissed off legions of pregnant women over at Babble. Or so I gathered by the comments left on Babble’s FB page, many of which referred to me as an “arrogant man.” The one I quote below? She didn’t call me an arrogant man, but she did call me a “man” (gasp) and even went so far as to pity my wife for merely being married to me. Check it out:

Obvouse that this was written by a man, kinda of insulting to say the least the way it was written. I feel bad for his wife though 4 plus one on the way yikes.

Such an enlightened and well thought out critique has left me devastated. Humiliated, even, yet not to the extent I might be were I the one rocking the third-grade grammar. (Pretty “obvouse” that someone needs a little Hooked on Phonics.)

Indeed, all this negativity because I had the audacity to write a tongue-in-cheek post that suggested that there were 5 different types of pregnant women. Boy have I learned my lesson.

Okay, that’s bullshit. I totally haven’t learned my lesson. Because I’m arrogant.

And a man. An arrogant man.

But take pity on me, I beg of you. Because I’m also a self-professed idiot. Well, not a grammatical idiot like ol’ Ms. Obvouse over there. But an idiot nonetheless. Should you wanna read this idiot’s assessment of the 5 different types of pregnant women, click here.

Image: stock.xchng

5 Quirks My Wife Found Endearing…Before She Was Pregnant

Those sunglasses atop my head? I lost them 5 minutes after this pic was taken. Along with my car keys.

Even those of us in the best of matrimonial arrangements would likely agree that marriage can often be hard work. And my marriage is no exception. Only it’s a breeze for me. The hard work, it turns out, is all Caroline’s. Because I’m tough to stay hitched to. If for no other reason than a series of well-intended quirks that make me a bit…

strange.

But here’s thing: Caroline used to love these quirks. Sadly, now she doesn’t. See, this pregnancy has made my wife increasingly irritable. (In a sweet way, honey.) As such, she doesn’t have the patience she normally has. Which is bad news for me and my, um, proclivities. For they’re no longer deemed quirky and endearing. They’re deemed annoying. And here are the top 5:

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10 Things This Baby Should Know About His Family

Soon we'll need another stool...

Now that Caroline has crossed over the halfway point of her pregnancy, we’re starting to creep ever closer to the actuality of adding this little guy to our crazy mix. As such, we’re going through what few baby clothes we didn’t give away (since we thought we were done) as well as tinkering around with different sleeping arrangements. We’re also making note of everything we’ll need — from bouncy seats to gliders to receiving blankets to outlet covers.

And just last night, something occurred to me. We’re making all these preparations based on the fact that a little boy is about to join the fray. So in fairness to Grand Finale (as I’ve taken to calling him), I thought I’d let him know 10 things about his family that he ought to be aware of. You know, in case he wanted to make any adjustments of his own.

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The Time I Ran Away From My Pregnant Wife

Sometimes running away proves you'll never, ever leave.

It was a quarter after ten. Caroline was already out like a light though I was anything but, tossing and turning by the dim glow of the TV. Not even ESPN could lull me to sleep, my mind racing with a mix of anxiety and guilt. I was anxious because I wasn’t really excited about doing it alone. That certainly hadn’t been the plan. But four hours earlier my friend had unexpectedly bailed on me. And it was too late to turn back.

The guilt was because I didn’t feel good about leaving her, a thought that accompanied me as I shuffled my bare feet across the cold hardwood planks to the kitchen and checked the list again. Yep. Four different telephone numbers and as much detail as I could possibly provide. I crawled back into bed and held her tighter than normal. Not too tight, of course. Not at 20 weeks.

My tossing and turning would continue, and at four in the morning, she stirred for the first time all night. ”Do you have to go?” she asked while tracing a line on my hand with her index finger until it stopped on my wedding band.

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10 Signs Your Wife Might Be Pregnant

Dude. She's pregnant.

I’m not really one for gender-based stereotypes. I mean, I write for a blog called Being Pregnant. That should tell you something right there. (No, not that I’m lactating.) Given that I’m not one for such stereotypes, I hesitate to even throw this one out there, but it’s Friday, so what the hell.

Sometimes men don’t notice things that women wish they would. You know. New shoes. Haircuts. Manicures. Couch-pillow-fluffening endeavors. But one thing a man is sure to notice is whether or not his wife is pregnant. And just in case you / your husband is such a Neanderthal that even this might escape escape you / him, fear not. Because after extensive research, I have come up with a list of 10 signs that strongly indicate a woman may be pregnant.

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Image: stock.xchng

5 Things I’ve Learned About My Wife’s Pregnancy

Put the ice cream down, raise your hands in the air and slowly back away from the table.

When Babble invited me to blog for Being Pregnant, I wasted no time in accepting. That said, I did wrestle with one tiny logistical concern. I’m not pregnant — a fact my pregnant wife has delighted in pointing out on numerous occasions. This helpful observation is offered as irrefutable proof that I can’t possibly imagine what it’s like to be her. At least that’s what I’ve gathered when she follows “you’re not pregnant” with “so you can’t possibly imagine what it’s like to be me.”

Touché. But two can play that game, my friends. For there’s something that my wife cannot possibly imagine — what it’s like to be married to someone who often holds biological impossibilities against me during hormone-fueled attacks.

Still…

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