Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 77663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
AMANDA
I’m married to a crazy person. We got home to the men in my family reorganizing the nursery. That in itself wasn’t the issue; it’s the fact that my husband had apparently bought out the baby store for his daughter.
In his logic, girls need more stuff than boys. I’m not sure where he heard that, but I could already see that I was going to have trouble on my hands if he kept this up.
“Thunder, let me ask you a question: first, when did you do all this? I don’t recall you leaving the hospital, and the babies were born at night when the store was already closed.”
“That lady gave us her card, remember? She said to call if we needed anything.”
“Okay, and you called her while she was off?”
“Yeah, she has a store to sell shit; who cares what time it is?”
“Fine, how did you choose all these things? They don’t have an online store.”
“I told her to send everything she had for little girls. Isn’t that what you did for the boys?”
“No, we have a lot of stuff for the boys because there are two of them; you only have one daughter. She does not need every outfit in every color that they have in the store.”
“Also, she’s going to grow out of most of this stuff in no time because that’s what babies do.”
“So just get her more when she grows out of it.” I’ve always heard the phrase more money than sense, but until now, I have never seen it enacted.
It wasn’t just clothes either. He literally bought everything the store had for girls; at least, that’s the way it looked to me and everyone else who came into the nursery. The only one who didn’t see a problem with it was Evelyn and that’s because she had gone out first thing this morning and done some shopping of her own for her Goddaughter.
Not only that, but he’d changed the cribs he’d insisted on in the beginning because, apparently, the dark wood wasn’t suitable for girls. I drew the line when I overheard him asking Dad if the blue paint on the walls should be changed.
“You know, I never got the sense that you were crazy before.” I think he was having some kind of episode, if you ask me. All night, he’d stayed awake staring at the kids. Each time I opened my eyes, he was either standing over them or pacing back and forth with one of them in his arms, usually his daughter.
This is the man who kicked up a stink at the mere possibility that we might have a girl; now, he seems to have gone completely around the bend in the opposite direction. I blame Google. I wasn’t paying close attention in the early hours of the morning when he told me he was looking up things about being a dad to a little girl.
I don’t know what he learned, but whoever put these ideas in his head should be shot. The man is a maniac. I should’ve left well enough alone because apparently the crazy doesn’t only extend to his daughter but his wife as well.
For the first week after getting home, I wasn’t allowed to leave the bed except at bath time or to feed the babies, who he had moved into our bedroom for some unknown reason.
All the women in my family were in and out each time I opened my eyes, and I had no idea what was going on until Joy filled me in on the schedule her brother had come up with, which had all the women we knew on rotation while he was busy in his study, interviewing nannies.
He was in and out at mealtimes and feeding times, had called the doctor numerous times as if she were his personal assistant, and was now an expert on raising kids. He bought some contraption and claimed it would make my life easier if I expressed milk, some of which was to be frozen.
He sat up in bed when one of the babies needed feeding and held us both while I fell back asleep with a child attached to my chest. I couldn’t help but compare his treatment to what I could’ve expected had I had a child with Dan.
No doubt his mother would be hovering and criticizing everything I did. But I knew deep in my heart that I wouldn’t be getting the care and attention I was getting.
That’s why, by the middle of the first week, I was feeling rested and ready to get back on my feet. All the women in my life teased that they were jealous of how well he was taking care of me.
Then the night came when I saw that look on his face. For a moment, I expected him to tell me that this was all too much. That he didn’t want to do this with me. That’s how dark the look on his face was.