I felt like kind of a failure as a wife this weekend. I swear I barely know who I am anymore.
As I mentioned, it was Stew's birthday on Friday, and typically I always plan something pretty fun for him. Last year it was the Bowling Bash; the year before it was the Pub Crawl. But this time I just could not manage to get anything pulled together, and I feel just terrible.
I did take the day off on Friday for his actual birthday, and we spent the time together lounging around the house and doing a few projects for baby. Then I had company tickets to the Mariners game that evening, so we grabbed a birthday bite at Pyramid and headed to the game, which we ended up winning... go Ms!
But that, my friends, was basically the extent of Stew's 33rd birthday celebration. Not our best effort.
The exhaustion of the end of this pregnancy has completely worn me down. I spent the remainder of the weekend either in bed or on the couch with my feet up, occasionally doing various projects in between. But the baby swing and stroller are assembled, his clothes are washed, folded, and put away, and his name is hanging proudly over his crib in blue letters. I'm also driving around with an infant seat installed safely in the back of my car. Like I said, who am I?!
So that's how we spent Stew's birthday weekend. I took no photos, drank no alcohol, and did nothing epic. Neither did poor Stew. As I said... wife failure.
I'll make it up to him...