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Friday, April 15, 2011

Proof that you can't really expect a pregnant woman to have reasonable ideas about what is or is not a "CRISIS"

Yesterday was an intense day of the nesting/OMG-must-get-everything-done-and-ready-right-NOW urge for me.  I was probably being a little nutty, but I have to say it was kind of a nice change from the I'm-so-tired-I-just-want-to-lay-here-and-drool days that I've been having lately.  I decided that it was finally time (!!!!) to start pre-washing baby clothes, blankets, etc.  So I was upstairs in the nursery, gathering up laundry, when I realized that I couldn't find any of the baby socks anywhere.  I remembered taking them all out of their little packages, rolling them into teeny-tiny sock-pair balls, and putting them in a drawer....but then I also recalled taking them back out when Jeromy suggested I wash them first.  I remembered that Jeromy had been helping me carry a bunch of stuff downstairs, including all of the packaging trash from the stuff we had been putting together in the nursery.  Cue the sinking feeling in my already-plenty-heavy stomach.  By the time Jeromy got home, I had looked all over the house: no baby socks.  I was getting pretty upset, and also getting upset with myself for getting upset,  because, hello, they are just socks.  Lost socks does not in any way, shape, or form constitute a crisis--even really cute socks.  But my hormones had long ago zoomed past "being reasonable."

So when Jeromy walked in the door, he was pretty much greeted by a miserable-looking wife who, on the verge of wailing, accused him of accidentally throwing away all of the baby socks.  We both re-hashed our respective memories of what happened on the night in question, but after a few rounds of "did you look in the hamper?" and "did you double-check the closet?", we both concluded that the precious, never-used baby socks were probably chilling at the landfill by now.  

However, after fearfully checking my face for any signs of lip-quivering, Jeromy decided to go check the garage one last time to see if any of the bags we had brought down were still hiding somewhere.  Sure enough, at the bottom of a bag of boxes and packaging, he found the baby socks.  I'm not sure which one of us was more relieved and excited; me, because the collection of adorable socks had been restored, or Jeromy, because a pregnant wife meltdown had been averted.  


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