So, last night I made dinner and sat down next to Phil to eat. I asked him curiously how much we should think about spending on baby furniture. Boy did that open a can of worms. He decided to tell me that he plans on leaving the (hideous) puke yellow 60's couch and chair in the nursery. Um, NO. First of all, that's just gross. Who knows what has crawled it's way into that furniture and died.
So, I did what any pregnant woman would do and I cried. I cried my eyes out. I couldn't believe that he would be so insensitive to not even put the comfort of his wife and newborn baby into the equation of what furniture will go in the room. I cried so hard I thought I was going to pass out.
Phil, if you're reading this... When you find a way to grow a set of milk producing breasts to feed our baby at all hours of the night, you can use that awful chair. Until that happens, I will decide on the furniture. Thanks. And while we're on the subject, the next time I cry until I nearly pass out - all it takes is a little comment like "We will find something that works Sarah, I'm sorry I upset you." Then maybe I will stop crying and start breathing again.