I'm a sucky wife

Today is my husband's birthday. 43.

I'm scrambling around trying to pull together some stuff to make him feel special. Somehow, I just have the feeling that S and I standing next to the bed and singing to him this morning fell a little short of his expectations.

Or maybe not... Still.

I gotta rush into the grocery store and pick up something to make for dinner. I can barely look at meat these days without puking but it is his favorite. A special treat.

Then home to cook. Well, I'll cook some of it but not the damn meat.

Presents are pretty dismal. I bought him a new watch band. My mom got him some expensive chocolates. I couldn't find anything else and I didn't feel like spending the money on nothing.

I didn't even bake him a cake. Too hot. No time. I said we'd go out for dessert after dinner. (Of course, S has been asking where Daddy's birthday cake is since she woke up this morning!)

I suppose I'll have to have birthday sex, too. Ugh. Again, too hot. Plus, I am just not feeling sexy these days between my expanding waistline and my morning sickness.

Grumble. Whine. I'm a sucky wife.