Pregnant Women Just Gotta Deal.

author’s note: Do you like “The Onion”? Then you’ll like this.

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Remember these days? (freedigitalphoto.net, pregnant woman holding belly by adamr)

A local father-to-be is honored for the hard work he did around the house on Saturday, while his wife “just puked all day”.

Jon Rhett goes on to say, “I mean, the dishes weren’t going to do themselves, right? Some of the bowls had cereal stuck on them so they were very hard to wash. I learned you have to let those soak because I cut myself on a sharp Frosted Flake that had adhered to the side of the bowl.” He then held up his middle finger which was indeed bandaged.

It wasn’t just the dishes that he helped with, though. Jon also vacuumed the living room (“I ate the cereal in there; I dropped a couple pieces”) and also used a hand towel to wipe off the sink in the bathroom. “After I did that, I threw it on the bathroom floor and did a little foot mopping. My wife spends almost three hours a day, every day, in here doing the Technicolor yawn. You’d think she would have gotten all of the ick off the floor, at least. But no, there was still a spot or two behind the toilet. Or maybe just a misfire from the old piss-cannon. Either way, our bathroom hasn’t looked this good in months,” he said. “I just threw the hand towel I used on the floor back up on the towel rack. Didn’t want to make extra laundry.”

The two are expecting their first child in a few months. Jon said his wife, Sega, claims to be suffering from “hyperemesis gravitadarum” almost since the day she got pregnant. “Oh, sure I Googled it,” he relates. “And of course some pregnant ladies throw up a lot. But that’s usually only for the first couple of months. My wife seems to really be drawing this out—I’m starting to think it’s intentional so she can get out of housework. I mean, I get it, though. Sometimes my stomach is a little upset. Every single Saturday morning, I feel exactly the same way. I’m hungover after Friday nights with my bros. But as you can clearly see, I was still able to do some housework even though I didn’t feel well. It really is just mind over matter. Take some Pepto, am I right? Some preggos run marathons clear up until their ninth month, I read somewhere. We all just gotta deal.”

When asked if he attends obstetrician appointments with his wife, Jon laughingly shook his head. “The last time we went together, we took my new pickup. Do you know how hard it is to clean puke out of floor mats? She had to buy me new ones because even though she used toothpicks on the grooves, some things just don’t come out. It still smells in there.”

One of Jon’s bros, Charlie Pratt, submitted his name and a small story describing his momentous aid and personal sacrifice to an online contest on “Everyday Husbands”, a small Facebook group of newly married men. When the admins of Everyday Husbands called Jon to let him know he won the prize (limo service to a local steakhouse and $100 gift card to the restaurant), no one was more surprised than his wife.

Jon said, “It’s almost as if she wasn’t excited that I won something.” When asked when he planned on using the winning limo ride and dinner prize with her, he told our reporter, “You know, I’m not really sure she’s going to be up for going out to dinner anytime soon. I’ll probably invite my friend Charlie from the group; his wife is expecting triplets and I imagine he’s probably going stir crazy,” he chuckled. “We could both use a night out from our respective ball-and-chains. Besides, this is a treat for my wife too. Now she won’t have to make me dinner whatever night Charlie and I decide to go. Plus she’d probably throw it up anyway. And now she won’t have to do dishes that night either.”

We tried to reach Jon’s wife for comment on his prize, but our calls were not returned.

In celebration of “real” men.

As I flit through the social media and romance channels, I hear so much about celebrating “real” women in romance literature. Heck, I have spouted off on this topic myself. However, it occurred to me that I’ve never read anything about celebrating real men.

Does it seem strange to do so? After all, romance is all about those buff, impossibly-delicious dudes who curl our toes. You know, the kinds who don’t exist so we authors have to create them.

Notwithstanding the perfect abs, full heads of hair and penchant for saving their women, I’d be willing to bet my last dollar that most of these unreal book boyfriends had their origins in some very real men. And why not? When I consider the real men who’ve been in my life, I’m struck by a few things.

Yes, they sometimes aggravate us. Sometimes they sit on the couch too much and hog the remote (unlike my hubby who thrusts it at me every chance he gets. The remote, that is.) Our real men often have hairy backs and don’t comment when we lose a few pounds. Oh, and there was that time they forgot our anniversary. Yes, real men sometimes drive us up the wall.

But they have their advantages too, don’t they?

They sometimes come home with flowers, for no reason. Conversely, they sometimes bring us chocolates because they remember we’re allergic to flowers. My hubby always fills my mug with coffee, before filling his own. And even though his body clock often wakes him up at the crack of dawn, he always lets me sleep in on the weekends. Yes, some of our men are losing their hair, but they make up for it by gazing at us with those eyes that first snared us. They may not growl “Mine” like a shifter, or make us immortal like a vampire, but they snuggle with us on the couch and don’t complain when we eat the last serving of ice cream. They shovel the snow off our walks and fill our cars with gas and in many cases, they provide for us. They are fathers to our children and help with homework, or corralling the kids at a birthday party. Our real men do all the sweet, little gestures our book boyfriends never seem to do. Granted, the book boyfriends are too busy saving the world as we know it.

And that’s okay, because I’m quite happy residing in that world with my real man.

Men & Dancing

dancing modernWhy is it that men don’t like to dance? I came upon a recent poll that broke down the reasons as follows:

Because they suck at it                                       30.833%

Because they think they look silly                       45.00%

Because it makes them think of John Travolta      5.00%

They do like to dance                                           19.17%

This poll targeted North American men. I’d bet my left sock (can’t actually bet my left nut here as I don’t own the actual equipment) that if you took a poll of European, Latin, or West Indian men, the percentage of men who like to dance would at least double.

Still, even among Latin and West Indian Males, it appears that the frequency of dancing drops like a bomb after marriage. Why is that?

Before we were married, my dh and I would go out dancing at least once a week. By the time our fifth anniversary came around, dancing was relegated to New Year’s Eve and Carnival.

Ever since our 15th anniversary, my pat answer when asked what I wanted has been—ballroom dancing lessons for the both of us. That’ll probably be my answer, once again, this year on our 36th wedding anniversary. I should just give up—right?

But, the dh has watched a few episodes of Dancing With the Stars recently and we’ve even discussed the competitors. I reckon the day they sign an ex-NHL hockey player my odds on the dancing lessons will be almost even.

I polled my three sons and three nephews: one is a devoted dancer, one doesn’t mind it once in a while, but the rest are all committed non-dancers. Okay, so there goes generational differences. It’s definitely a male thing.

So, do your men like to dance?

Cheers,

Jianne