Prepositions in odd Places

So much conflict.... so little weekend.

Friday night I was moaning and groaning a bit about how my back is KILLING me, and Mr. Renn complained right back. He said he was under the impression that I was much more whiney than most pregnant ladies and he thought I should be much more happy glowey and less moan and groaney. "I bet other pregnant ladies don't complain to their husbands this much..."

Ooooh - bad thing to say to the pregnant wife.

I have since taken it upon myself to ask every mother we have encountered while together whether she complained a lot to her husband while pregnant. So far they have all taken my side and I feel perfectly validated. The consensus.... pregnant women complain to their husbands far more than they do to anyone else while enduring the unpleasantries of pregnancy... So A) - it is only fair that the husband should share in the misery a bit and B) - Mr. Renn has never been a husband of a pregnant lady before and so has not seen this side of it.

He hasn't exactly retracted his comment, but he's rolled it up in a tiny ball and tried to make it invisible.

Saturday was actually a really rough day for Mr. Renn. Unluck just followed him everywhere. Among other things he lost one of my hubcaps, almost broke my parent's microwave, all kinds of unintentional unlucky stuff. We've been recovering since.... and I expect we'll be okay.

My Grandpa's birthday party / tour was really pretty cool (minus the noisy kids in the background, loud traffic, and abundance of air traffic that made half of it impossible to hear.) My favorite thing was hearing about the time my Grandpa whacked off half of his sister's ringlets and then his mother chased him around the house with a broom. Sometimes it's hard to remember that we were ALL young once.... but I like remembering that. I got to see a lot of cool old(er) houses where relatives I never knew I had once lived. And I learned that when they were raising pigs for some reason all their piglets had straight tails and never curly ones. Good times.

And it's an evil, slothful, unvaliant wonder, but I wonder if they would release me from my calling if I told them how exhausting it is for me to wrangle 12 kids for 2 hours every week. It makes it REALLY hard to have a positive attitude about getting up for our 8:30 am church. It's not that I don't love my kids... it's just a matter of my physical limitations...... And it makes Sunday mornings into miniature eternities. I won't ask to be released though - that's the thing. I will just wish they would read my mind and release me without me ever having to deal with the guilt of actually asking for it. *sigh*

Approx 57 work days left! I can do it!