Breathe...

My poor, poor husband.

I had a mini-meltdown earlier and Steve gave me that slap in the face I was hoping for. Not literally... don't call the police. For real... don't.

Now, I've been whining all day about being stressed out (as I mentioned in my previous post) to anyone that would listen, and although they were helpful, I didn't really calm down until I talked to Steve.

I was trying to be a good wife and not burden him with BS before an important meeting he has at work this afternoon, but, perhaps I'm not THAT good of a wife.

Here's my email to him:

On another note, and TRUST ME when I say that I’m not trying to stress you out… but, what the F were we thinking getting a puppy????

I’m soooo close to telling the breeder to take her deposit and run and just forgetting the whole thing, but I need your opinion… can we do this? You and I are an amazing team, and set aside the cost, we’ve raised a puppy and I know we can do it again, but back to the money… what were we thinking?!?!

Now, he's a mature (sometimes) human being and rather than play the email game, he just called me back and essentially, told me to get a grip. This isn't verbatim, but he basically said that there would never be a 'right' time to extend our family, and that we would make things work out with the money and that we'd just tighten our belts for a while, and that we've been wanting to get another baby for years now and that this was the time. Plus, he said we weren't going to lose our damn deposit.

Bear with me, when I express my frustrations, for they are not those of a sane, well-adjusted human being, but from a nutty chick with a brain that goes on overdrive for everything but work.

That reminds me... I should get back to work.