Last night I had a “moment” with P Bonez as he was doing the washing up. “Do you know what happens this week?” I ask him as I lean against the refrigerator. He calmly replies that he must begin working on his “BBQ table” before our annual Independence Day BBQ in the last remaining backyard in Jerusalem.
No no, I explain. “Do you know what happens with The Force this week?” I say motioning to my beer belly that has yet to evolve into the perky pregnancy belly that women all over the world can envy.
“I don’t” he simply replies. This is an obvious reflection that the last six weeks have not fazed him. At this very moment, I realize that this is a “Knocked Up” moment. My husband has not spent countless hours researching every minute detail of this pregnancy. He has not been filling his brain with statistics and reports, surverys and forums. He hasn’t been symphatic to all the poison I have had to abstain from ingesting in the name of a healthy pregnancy.
He’s just been doing what he usually does and this week that means contemplating how to build a BBQ table for this coming Monday.
“This week there is a heartbeat!! “I explain with enthusiasm. “Within the next seven days, the fetus will almost DOUBLE in size, with phalanges protruding from it’s body! “ . P Bonez continues his BBQ contemplation, more interested in what I have to say but not reaching the levels of interest that I have obviously expressed in the last few weeks. Ok, perhaps “interest” is not the right word to use and “compulsive research behavior” is.
“I can feel my left and right ovaries” I state. “This means I could possibly be having twins” I test him.
He perks up.
“Not Really” I say as I walk away. My eyes rolling.
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