Pregnancy Brought out my Inner Diva!

Originally published at the Yummy Mummy Club – April 2012:

I will start by saying that I had a fairly easy pregnancy, by all reasonable standards.

I didn’t get very big. Morning sickness only lasted for a few weeks. Other than the fatigue and Big Mac cravings, it was an easy time.

That, however, is NOT how I played it.

And as my hubby reads this article, I guess the jig is up for me. This was three years ago, though, and as our dear one is going to be a singleton, I can share this with you now.

When I was pregnant, I saw my chance to be the diva that I knew was lurking inside me, just pining to come out and be a pain. For nine months.

“Honey, are you going to vacuum sometime this century?” my husband quipped sarcastically.
“Sorry, can’t. I’m growing a human.”

“Love, are you making dinner tonight?” eyebrows raised, hopeful of getting something hot that didn’t come out of a box.
“Umm. No. I’m growing a human. Can you pick something up?”

“Yes?” (Tone reflecting my need to languish on the sofa and watch television to avoid complete exhaustion.)
“We need to do some groceries.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Me? You want me to do them? I’m growing a human, or didn’t you get the memo?” (Tone getting a little irritated that I need to explain this yet again.)
“Oh, yeah. I got the memo. I burned the memo.”
“Really? You should have told me. That must have been pretty. Then again, who needs that much smoke around them when they are growing a human?”

“I have to get you what kind of gift?”
“A push gift.”
“Uh huh. And WHAT is a push gift?”
“It’s a gift I get for giving birth.”
“Well, that’s great. And where is my gift?”
“Your gift? For doing what?” (Insert sarcastic tone.)
“For putting up with you while you are growing a human!” (Slam goes the door.)

There is only so far you can push this diva thing.

“What exactly are you planning to say when you are done ‘growing a human,’ to get out of doing anything?” He asked this question apprehensively, since our last conversation resulted in him riding the sofa for a few nights.
“I’m raising a human?”

In case it wasn’t obvious, this is meant to be funny and not at all real. Sort of. A little. Don’t ask my husband. Please.


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