Don't Ask Me To Be Rational...

Jeremy is one of the most thoughtful and sweet men on earth.

It boarders on smothery death, though, when I'm pregnant.

At least in my hormonally imbalanced mind.

To him, he's offering a hug.

To me, he is threatening to crush my body in a death grip that will end in me reliving my last meal.

To him, he is trying to help me wash my hair.

To me, he is trying to drown me in the shower.

You have to feel sorry for men (or anybody within a 30 foot radius of a pregnant woman). All reason goes out the window, and emotion rules the day. It's like a scaled-down, walking tsunami of unbridled prego passion and vengeance-seeking for unnamed wrongs, and it all can evaporate in a heartbeat, if you are lucky.

Yesterday, Jeremy set my vitamins on the desk next me, and gave me a glass of water.

I popped them in my mouth, and then took a big mouthful of water. Body had a different idea, and tried to reject both mid-swallow.

I managed to keep both in my mouth, and forced a swallow, making a loud and messy experience out of it while Jeremy watched.

The look of horror on his face was priceless.

I wiped my mouth, and looked up at him with watery eyes.

"This is so much fun!" I squeaked weakly.

He raised his eyebrows up to his hair line and then wandered out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

I struggled up from my chair and hobbled after him.

For all his smothery-ness, I like having him close by.

You know...just in case of...well, anything.