My back and feet have been killing me this past week. Between the swelling of my ankles and the constant pain in my lower back from carrying 30 extra pounds (that’s right – I said 30), its been a rough week. Which means I’ve been complaining more than usual. Which means Chris is about to leave me. Which wouldn’t be so bad except he still hasn’t fixed the closet doors in the baby’s room.
Normally, he’s pretty good about keeping his frustrations in check. He never complains about me complaining. And whenever I don’t feel good, he always gives me a bear hug that buries my face into his chest (…so that I can’t speak anymore). But last night, some of his true thoughts accidentally seeped out.
I was sitting on the couch in the living room with my feet elevated and ice on my ankles, rubbing my lower back.
“I think this is what the whole third trimester might be,” I whined.
“What, sweetie?” Chris asked, in his most understanding voice. “Grumpy all the time?”