Background: Clint is from Savannah, Geogia. Savannah, Georgia has one of the largest St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in the US. It’s a weeklong party there. We got a card from his mother to celebrate. I recognize that not all people get wasted on this day and eat Irish food, but we do (usually).
Eff this. Seriously. I am not a happy preggo today.
It’s the traditional day of corned beef, cabbage, Irish potato salad and, most importantly, Irish car bombs (it’s a drink, technically, a drop shot. Look it up. It will change your life).
Being the good wife that I am, I told my husband to go out with his friends, be safe, and have fun. I will not be going out because I decline to be the pregnant chick that sits in a bar. Call me weird.
But I’m still going to cook my corned beef and cabbage. It’s tradition, damnit.
So I call my husband to talk to him about starting said corned beef and the more I talk to him the more pissed I get. WHY DOES HE GET TO GO OUT AND PARTY?!
I make him promise to be safe and to check in on his pregnant wife every now again and he dares to ask me “So what are you going to do?”
What do you think I’m going to do? I’m going to sit here and grow a person while you go party like frat boy (internal thoughts)!
“I don’t have any plans…. I guess I’m going to sit home and eat corned beef and cabbage with the dog.” followed by a low growl.
AND THEN… HE ACTUALLY SAYS THIS TO ME: “I asked you if you wanted me to stay home. I would feel bad if I cancelled now.”
HOW DARE HE USE LOGIC AND KINDNESS ON ME!!!!
I responded with a very wife-like “We’ll talk about this later.”
The reasonable side of me says: Of course he can go out and fun. He isn’t pregnant and he deserves it. He works hard. Plus, you get a quite night with your DVR and some awesome food.
The irrational pregnant me says: Waaaaaaaaaa! Life isn’t fair! Just because I’m going to be a mom doesn’t mean I’m old and I can’t still have fun…. Oh wait. It does. FML. I’m going to feel sorry for myself all day now and not wear green to protest… but I’m still eating my corned beef.
Back to work I go. On a Saturday. On St. Patricks Day. Being pregnant. Being sober. Being responsible.
Even in my hormonal state, I can see that I'm being a little over the top. But I don't care and if anyone tries to convince me I'm being hormonal I will punch them in the face. Tomorrow, I will apologize. Maybe.
Grrr......
