I love Fridays! I love Conversion Diary, I love 7 Quick Takes, I love the fact that my kids are napping, and I love that we’re going out to dinner tonight (a monumental occasion). So in honor of all that love, and because I’m just in a particularly jocular mood, today’s post is for the men. Here are seven things to never say or do to your pregnant wife. I know you should never say or do these things because my husband has said or done (nearly) all of them to me, and trust me, they aren’t pleasant to a hormonal, expansive woman who is more likely than not shoving ice cream in her face. Avoiding these phrases and actions will ensure that your wife, too, still loves you at the end of these nine long months. I can’t guarantee love through the delivery process, though. Sorry guys. I’m not a magician.
“See you later, Stay Puft.”
I got this one this morning. I’ve never been nine months pregnant in August before, and I was commenting (well, okay, whining) about how I miss the sight of my ankle bones and I feel like the marshmallow man as I was putting on a swimsuit. (Sidenote: Never, never make a comment when a woman is putting on a swimsuit. It’s just safer to stay silent.) Anyhow, my clever husband thought that would be the perfect send-off as he left for work.
“Are you going to eat all of that?”
Yes. The answer is yes. Don’t ask.
“What’s for dinner?”
Let me clarify this one. It’s perfectly all right, in my opinion, to ask your wife what’s for dinner when she’s pregnant, especially if she’s the type of wife (like me) who rules the kitchen like it’s a poorly behaved communist nation. It’s not all right, however, to ask your wife what’s for dinner while she’s timing contractions and debating whether or not it’s too early to call the midwife. At that point, you should probably be fending for yourselves, guys.
“You’re almost as wide as you are tall!”
Don’t measure her belly. Seriously, don’t. It may be sort of a cute thing to do in her first pregnancy, but the laughs go downhill fast with babies 2, 3, and so on. Also, if you happen to measure your 5 foot tall wife in her first pregnancy and find that she’s 4 feet around, please don’t ever, ever repeat that. Because, like my husband, you’ll get punched. And the “beach ball” jokes aren’t that funny after a while.
“I’m a guy. I don’t paint toenails.”
Seriously? That is still my reaction to my husband. In all three of my pregnancies I’ve hit the “can’t reach my feet” mark right at about 7 months, and in all three he’s refused to man up and paint my freaking toenails. Guys, come on! Your wife is growing your progeny, your legacy, your future here! Paint her damn toenails!
“Look, this one’s the deepest.”
When your wife is in labor, it’s not a good idea to stand at the foot of the hospital bed with your brother and have a contest to see who can put the biggest dent in her very, very swollen ankles. Even if she’s had an epidural and can’t feel it. It’s just not funny.
“It’s not the dress that makes you look fat, it’s your butt that makes you look fat!”
Credit for this one actually goes to my wonderful father, who said this to my mom in a seriously, seriously misguided attempt to make her laugh.