We phoned it in on dinner tonight. Hubs warmed up hot dogs.
Hubs: How many wieners do you want?
Me: Just one. It's kind of what I signed on for in marrying you, right? Just one wiener for the rest of my life?
Hubs: And don't you forget it.
I'm ridiculously pregnant (due in two weeks) and I'm feeling an overwhelming urge to tie up loose ends and prepare for this baby. As a result, I'm overdoing it. This conversation occurred as we were making the guest bed tonight (just one of the dozen loads of laundry I've done in the past week).
Hubs: You need to stop. Tomorrow, just sit down and rest. There's nothing else that has to be done.
Me: I just need to vacuum and mop downstairs and do one more load of laundry. And make pancakes to freeze.
Hubs: You're not spending five hours making pancakes. Once the baby is here, you won't be able to rest. You need to rest now. If you want pancakes, I'll buy you pancakes.
Me: I'm not eating shitty pancakes.
Hubs: This isn't a farm. You don't have to do everything yourself.
Later, I make one final trip downstairs to grab a couple things and remember there's a load of laundry in the dryer. In trying to wrangle the basket and my giant belly through the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs, I drop stuff. Hubs hears me and comes to the rescue; we meet halfway up the stairs and he takes the basket from my hands.
Hubs: [sighs] Be sure to milk the cows in the morning.