Saturday, October 4, 2008

"We're" Pregnant And Other Misstatements

I'm not, as a rule, afraid to take credit where it's due. (Yes, thank you captain obvious, I know.)

However, I have something of a pet peeve: the guys who say "We're pregnant" or allow others to tell them "So, you're pregnant, eh?"

No. No, I am NOT pregnant. In point of fact, it is physically impossible for me to BE pregnant, last I checked. I lack the proper equipment for that job.  "Oh, but you're married to your wife, the two of you are a team" I hear people say. Rubbish. When the quarterback fumbles the football, they don't say the TEAM fumbled. They make it quite clear WHO fumbled as soon as they know. Same thing with scoring goals in hockey, or anything else. Yes, I am on Team Fletcher, but if I want to extend the sports metaphor, I've already hiked the ball. My job here is done. All I do now is stand there and block stressors in her life from time to time. That's not nearly enough work for me to claim credit on something as awe-inspring as "I'm pregnant."

I wonder if other guys feel like that. Sure, I'm supportive, sure, I'm around - but I'm no life-support system, and I sure don't have the super power of growing people inside of me. In fact, for a guy like me, who likes to feel like he has some sway over events, some control over his life, and some general command of the direction things are going... I do damn little in what matters most at the moment.

Can't say that I like it much, honestly. Frustrates me to watch my wife yack - we're up to about 1.5 times a day in the last week, uberbad - and know there's nothing I can do to prevent it happening. Frustrates me to watch her exhausted and know I could do every chore in the house and it wouldn't matter. Frustrates me a LOT to get chewed out for minor or non-existent misunderstandings which are entirely pregnant-hormone-irritation-explosions (AKA, "The Pregnabeast") and know that were I Rico Suave, or the King of Diplomacy, it wouldn't make a bit of difference.

This whole dad thing. I'm looking forward to it, but for the first time in my life, I'm totally on the bench... and yeah. Not keen.

Other mis-statement worth brief note: Fairs. They aren't. There's nothing "Fair" about them. "Fair" means "acceptable" or at least "agreeable." Those mob-crush, fried-food-orgies are nothing of the sort. They're "Sucks" followed by "Mehs" with the occasional "Neat!" wrapped in. Texas State Fair should also have a "ripoff" written in it somewhere. I guess "Texas State Suckmehneatripoff" would have all kinds of misunderstandings and bizzare connotations to it, though... not to mention the possibly unpleasant side effect of someone's manhood getting mangled. Eek.

Closing now.

I'm not pregnant. My wife is. I want to help more. I can't. Fairs aren't. End of blog.

1 comment:

Amy said...

At least I didn't barf up my corny dog! Woo hoo! Love you.