Weeping beauty. That’s Owen’s new nickname for me. He calls me this because in my current state I can, at any moment, burst out into tears over anything…or nothing. And I do mean that literally. But it would seem I’m not the only one.
Yesterday, on the way to Owen’s mom and dad’s house for church, we had quite an interesting moment. We took the back way, winding, hilly country roads that are not nearly as well-traveled as those of the highway. We like to go that way. Yesterday, on the way, we could see from quite some distance (I would say almost a mile) that a herd of what we suspected were deer were crossing the road. As we neared, we could tell for sure that’s what they were. Because we’d seen them from so far away, we began to slow down well in advance of them. By the time we were within 20 yards of them, we had stopped. They continued on, completely ignoring us as they crossed from the woods on one side of the road to the woods on the other side. Once they’d all passed, which took about 2 or 3 minutes, I’d say, we continued on.
When we got to the house, we discovered that we were early and so we decided to work on our menu for the week as we waited. Since Owen’s mom and dad use the same crock-pot cookbook that we are so fond of, we decided just to look through that one to make our shopping list. As I thumbed through the pages and Owen played secretary, he paused a moment a looked up at me. “You know,” he said, “Last week was about the best week of meals we’ve had in a long time. And it was the healthiest too. It’s so nice to come home to real food.” And with that, he gave a sniffle and brushed away a tear. I stared at him for a moment, doing my best to respect his male sensitivity and not to laugh. But after a minute, he said, “Cripe…I’m crying over deer and crock-pot recipes. What the hell is wrong with me?” So then I had to ask him… “Are you pregnant too? Because crying all the time is totally my gig. You stole it.”
And he calls ME weeping beauty…at least I can blame my hormones. I guess for him we have to blame “sympathy” hormones.
P.S. Sam hit 27 weeks today. Check it out.