7:00 AM BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Frank's alarm goes off for the 10th time.
Those of you who know my husband may be under the impression that he's an early riser. Apparently, however, that only applies to the weekends, when he hops out of bed raring to go at 6 AM on Saturday and Sunday, while I huff and puff and roll over to try to go back to sleep (because, seriously, there are no husbands who can actually get out of bed without waking their wives).
This morning was no different, and when Frank finally shot out of bed in a panic at 7:30 AM both Franklin and I were also jolted awake. So I suppose things were going to be a bit off-kilter today. Frank got ready for work and left at a decent time, and I began my morning routine. At some point, I realized that Frank had forgotten his glasses, which was odd. A quick blackberry message to him and we'd arranged for me to bring them to work (we work across the street from each other).
I finished getting ready for work, and headed to our kitchen table to gather my bag and keys. Because I am aware that pregnant women are notorious for absentmindedness and for losing things, like keys, I place my keys and bag on the kitchen table every single night when I come in to prevent the infuriating search for keys as I try to head out the door in the morning. Today, however, when I went to reach for my keys--they weren't there. I'd come home a little later last night following dinner with friends, but was certain that I'd put my keys on the table - like I always do. After all, I'm a big fan of the routine, a creature of habit, am methodical to the point of obsession. So, because it's a little later than I'd like and I'm pretty busy at work, the panic sets in... where did I put my keys? Darn this baby brain! I search from room to room - they aren't in the bedroom drawer, or the laundry hamper, or the medicine cabinet, or the den in the tray - or in the study on the desk. They aren't in the door (did that one day last week for about an hour). They didn't fall on the floor, and they aren't in my bag. What did I do with them?!? By this time, it's been about 15 minutes and I'm starting to sweat and am getting upset. I just don't have the time this morning to wait for Frank to drive all the way back to the house to pick me up because I stupidly lost my keys.
As a last resort, I phone Frank. He picks up, although I'm on speaker phone. "Hey, any idea where my keys might be?" I ask. "Well, I used them to unlock the door this morning." He replies. This sets off a stream of words that I choose not to repeat, and that will result in a mouth full of soap should Franklin ever decide to utter them. "Where the ___ did you put my keys!!?" I ask. (At this point I am no longer on speakerphone) - "Hold on, hold on, I just remembered that I didn't use them to unlock the door, I used my own! It's not my fault." He replied. Just in case, while we're still on the phone, I open the kitchen drawer where we stash keys. There, lovingly placed with all of the other random keys in the house, are my car keys. I relay their location to my hubby, and he just giggles.
Thank goodness I have a sense of humor, and find my husband's giggling rather charming.
Tomorrow we attend our all-day prenatal class at our hospital. I cannot wait to watch Frank put a diaper on a baby doll. Happy Friday!
Ahh...so something my hubby would do as well! Have fun at the class...and try not to get kicked out as David and I almost did. (and considering we were the oldest people in class...that doesn't say much for our maturity level!)
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