My Hormones or His Brain Farts?

I am SO sorry for the crass title. But that's the real question I have. Twice this week my DH has pretty much made me question whether its his judgment that's flawed ... or my ability to withstand ANY type of frustration in my 1/2-way-through-being-knocked-up-and-long-way-to-go condition.

Item #1: Wednesday night I come home to find my house full of paint fumes. Oil-based fumes. The ONE thing my doctor told me to avoid completely. Besides smoking. Turns out DH wanted to "touch up" our epoxy tile paint in the bathroom. THAT NIGHT. Before our realtor came over to take pictures to put our house on the market. Pictures centered around close-up pictures of our bathtub, of course. Oh no wait! He only took one half-assed show of our bathroom that I think maybe caught an edge of our shower stall.

Did I mention all the windows were closed and my son with his tiny baby angelic lungs was running around in this funk which was practically like a green haze from a Scooby Doo cartoon?

Item #2: Our electric dog fence broke. I don't know when. It takes the dogs (and us) a few days to figure it out, but once they do, they are Born Free on at least a once daily basis. So today we decide it is a Priority for DH to fix it. A process that usually takes between 20 and 60 minutes depending how hard it is for him to isolate where the line broke. Mr. Squirrel is usually the culprit, and once you twist in extra wire to continue the circuit and rebury it, boom you're done.

Here's what occurred, today ...

3:30 Matthew and I (REMEMBER I AM PREGNANT) lay down for a nap when DH goes outside to fix fence.

4:10 Wake up to doorbell and fervent knocking. Sweet little girl down the street informs me Murphy and Bogey are "playing at the park."

4:11 I oh so patiently inform my husband (who is outside, mind you) that the dogs are not 10 feet away and invisible as he must have suspected ... but are at the part 2 blocks away.

4:12 Back to sleep in a huff.

6:30 Wake up to find DH chatting with neighbor. Upon request for a progress update, I learn we have "isolated a break in the line" but not fixed it.

Then proudly tells me how he HAS however raked the yard and picked up the dog poop. You know, those mission critical items.

6:31 Sigh heavily, stomp around, go get Matthew up from nap.

6:40 Join Michael across the street talking to neighbor. (Break in sarcastic tone: Found out our neighbor Jackie who's been trying forever is PREGNANT and due just a couple weeks after us. Yahoo!)

7:00 Go back to irritated when Michael and Jackie recount, "Do you know where those dogs were today?" "At the park." "No! They ran up to the train tracks! I/Mike was running down the tracks after them." Stricken look from me. "My adrenaline was pumping. I just kept waiting for that train to come." I patiently take it in - because I am already mentally trying to block this information that several important members of my family could have got killed by the choo choo while I napped. And that my husband knew this, yet instead of fixing the fence to prevent it in the future, focused on scooping the poop.

7:10 DH finally goes back to work and fixes first break but then realizes there must be more than one break. Line still not working. Outside now in near dark.

7:30 Poke my head out to let DH know I've ordered takeout and will be leaving to get it and taking Matthew. Find him chatting with different neighbor. This one's a musician and is showing Mike his ukele (no comments, please) and the broken strings.

I momentarily lose it. "How's it going? FIXED YET? Just don't want those dogs on the TRAIN TRACKS AGAIN."

It gets boring after this because I go get food and RedBox movie, and come home to find he fixed the fence. Lovely family story. All's well.

But still. You see my points. You are on my side. right, girl-powered-blog-readership?