if you read a story about a mother of 3 who snaps and murders her husband in Vail, AZ--yeah--that's probably me.

 I pretty much knew I was going to marry my husband when I was about 14 years old. I was young but I knew what I was looking for. I knew that my eventual husband would have to be very smart, he would have to be tall, he would have to be athletic and he would have to love me. Save for our year apart, Bubs has checked always all of those boxes. I think if I do the math right, last week was exactly 20 years ago when his mom forced him to take as shower and come over and help me with math. So with him making all my girlhood fantasies coming true and with 20 years of shared history behind us, can someone explain to me how he's such a fucking idiot? 

Bubs got his vasectomy on Monday. The doctor's printed instructions that he came home with said basically one thing: take it easy, no exercise, no lifting-stay in bed for the next week and you can return to work on Monday. If there is any credit to be given (it's all gone now) I have to say that Bubs did a great job for the first four days. My future sister in law is staying with us this week and my in-laws are still in town...really all the two of us had to do was lay in bed with our newborn daughter and get each other back to health. All of our household chores, to include getting our older kids to school and practices was pretty much taken care of us. In case I didn't make it sound simple enough the first time; we, as a married couple with 3 kids, had to stay in bed for a week. That was our job. 

So this morning at some ungodly hour--I don't quite know what time because we had been up all night with our 2.5 week old, I wake up to some commotion next to me and notice it's starting to get light outside. The man who's only job is to stay in bed walking around in running clothes and getting his running sandals tightened on his feet (yes, you read that correctly--not shoes--sandals--a whole other can of worms to attack some day). As if I didn't already know the answer, I asked him what he was doing. 

"I'm going to go for a quick run...I can't stand laying down anymore." 

"Should I even mention the paperwork from the urologist that's still sitting out on the kitchen counter?"

"I know but I feel fine and, it's been four days."

"Bubs, for me, just this once, can we not push this? I need you healthy since your parents are leaving next week." 

"I promise, I'll go slow and short--I'm probably just going to walk, I'll be fine. I just need to get out of bed." 

"Do you understand how mad I'm going to be if you push this and end up laid up all next week when Evie is gone and your parents are leaving?" 

So in years past Bubs would give me his huge dimple smile and give me a funny line and basically charm me out of my concerns. I'm sad to say that it ALMOST worked this time--almost but I saw through it because I could not get past how difficult next week was going to be if he's not up and ready to help me around the house. 

I reiterated "Do you know how mad I'm going to be if you push this and end up laid up all next week?"

"Dani, I promise, I just need to get out of the house for a bit--I'll be fine and I'll have my phone with me." 

I had desperately wanted to get some sleep when Ashley finally fell asleep, heck maybe even get a swollen boob massage or little butt rub. Instead I was watching Find my Friends as Bub's avatar went past the point in our neighborhood that would have constituted a little walk. Then past the point that would have been a light jog. Then past the point that would have been a rigorous run for an in-shape man in his 30s. I was fuming pissed because this was clearly turning into one of his 10+ mile runs that he does for "fun." 

I stopped watching my phone when I heard Evie going around the house getting the other two kids up to go to school. I helped her as much as she needed and when I got back to my phone there were 3 missed calls from--you guessed it--my husband. His location had more or less stopped so I knew something was wrong. I called him back and he said "hey don't be mad--please don't be mad--but ummm--my balls are super swollen and it really hurts to walk. Can you come get me?"

In our time together, I've unleashed some torrents of anger and swear words on that poor man--some justified, some from me being emotional irrational. Today's torrent was both me being emotional and it was completely justified. I was livid--I still am. You can always tell when Bubs knows I'm truly mad because he stops trying to charm me--well today, after that phone call, any charm he had left must have been stuck deep in his swollen balls. 

So because my husband can't follow the simple instructions of--drum roll--staying in fucking bed--I had to make my older two kids late to school so the amazing person who is basically our live in aunt/nanny could stay and watch the new born while I went drove around a super spread out suburban town that I barely know looking for an idiot with swollen balls. 

I finally found him and it was so bad that he needed me--the woman who just gave birth two and half weeks ago, with my post partum belly wrap and my swollen tits--to get out and help in into the my SUV. He was really in pain which again, in the past, may have worked on me to generate some sympathy but there was a part of me that wanted to push him out of the moving car. All of this would be truly preventable if he did the super challenging task of--staying in bed. 

When we got back home, things had gotten worse so I had to get Evie to help me help him into bed. By that time Ashley was awake and screaming so I had to take a minute to not feed her while I got my husband ice packs for his balls. Thankfully Ashley took her nursing with no problems and I was able to lay down next to Bubs where he begged me to call his urologist because he truly thought he would have to go to the ER. I called and thankfully a nurse called me back fairly quickly and her advice was essentially "Your husband went against medical advice, pushed it when he shouldn't have and unless the swelling doesn't go down by markedly by Sunday or Monday, there's not much that we can do. Make sure he stays in bed for another week." 

So here we are--8:30 pm on a Friday--both of us in the same bed. Thankfully, we have a ton of family around to support us. Bubs dad, Evie and the two kids are watching some new Star Wars show on Disney. My mother in law is walking around with Ashley trying to get her tired so I can feed her and hopefully get her to sleep for a couple of hours.  And I'm plotting how to get away with offing my husband--because he turned one week of bed rest into two.

Yeah so if you read about a poor mother of three who snapped in Southern AZ...its most likely me.