My Pregtarded Wife

How do developing babies get enough brain cells to effectively spit up and crap on their first day out of the womb? They steal them from their moms.

Near as I can tell, this begins around the beginning of the second trimester. That’s when the mental pregtardation begins to set in.

Since then, living with BabyCar has been like living with a very pretty Alzheimer’s patient. She forgets to eat. She forgets to go to bed. She leaves pizza in the oven until it turns into charcoal (okay, that was me).

On top of all that, I think she is officially the youngest person in pharmaceutical history to own one of those Morning/Lunchtime/Evening pill cases with the little boxes for each day of the week. I feel like we should have one of those big-numbered telephones sitting right next to it.

To make matters worse, BabyCar is not only going through the usual pregnant lady day-to-day activities, she’s also running our business. This means that by the end of the pregnancy, our entire office – if not the house – will be wallpapered in Post-It yellow.

“Do Invoicing”

“Go to Bank”

“Call so-and-so”

“Pee (repeat as necessary)”

I wonder if sticky notes are admissible if we ever get audited by the IRS.

Sir, you say you have a freelance writing business here, but your shoe-box full of Post-Its clearly reveals that this is some sort of a back room nursing home for the elderly and incontinent. You’re not zoned for that.

So now I have two jobs: communications consultant and reminder monkey.

Because BabyCar doesn’t particularly like using Post-Its (and forgets to read them anyway) it is my responsibility to call and e-mail her throughout the day to keep those little tasks like making phone calls and eating lunch from falling through the cracks.

I really don’t mind. As long as she’s hard at work building a little person from scratch, I figure she’s doing more than her share of the family workload.

I just hope that some of those brain cells grow back once Baby is raising hell outside of the womb.