June 11, 2012

• Do You Remember Giving Birth??……DON’T!!!

                

              

                    YA DID GREAT HON!

   

      I was chatting with Wifey the other night as I did the dishes and we were discussing how our memories were now acting up at our age or something like that, I don’t remember….anyway, she told me that her memories from years ago were just fine, but her problem were the short-termers that tended to evaporated like farts in a snowstorm. I had to agree as this was my defense for neglecting my ‘honey-do’ list.

       I asked her did she still remember all the details when the kids were babies. She assured me she did and then I made a poorly calculated error when I opened my mouth and asked……”Do you still remember giving birth?” There was a moment of silence and all you could hear was the dog’s paw nails scratching on the tile floor as it quickly left the room. The room’s temperature also rose substantially and Wifey’s beautiful green eyes turned into the dark hollow orbs of Beelzebub!

       “Do I still remember child birth?” she whispered in another voice. “Do you mean, can I remember the pain and anguish caused by a single male sperm that caused me to be vivisected from one genital area to another? Those memories?” she asked in still another voice.

       I looked away from her glare and whimpered, “Yes,“ as I redried the same pot.

      “Yes, love, I can clearly remember the 17 hard hours of intense labor that changed my hair color and altered my vocal cords for life. I can still remember you laughing and telling me to make sure it would be a boy or put it back in to cook some more, (I didn’t remember that…..but I think I might have).

       “Well….it was all worth it in the long run,” I said, “and besides, it was years ago, hon.” It was at this point, Wifey stood up and started regurgitating spasms of verbal pea soup!!

       “Let me tell you something, my beloved ‘semen bag’. No man, even the wonderful obstetrician, knows the anguish of having an eight pound, gyrating ham yanked out of their crotch to the cheers and applause of over worked nurses and bewildered relatives!” At this point, my legs were really getting shaky, because now she was approaching me and she knew where all the kitchen knives were.

       “You were very brave, sweetheart, and I was sooo proud of you,” I yammered.    

  “Bite me stud! Let me explain child birth to you in a language you will understand….’tool-ology’.” I wanted to remind her that the current evenings subject was about memory lost, but I feared she had already forgotten it as one more casualty to her dying brain cells.

       “Tool-ology, did you just make that up?” I sorta giggled.

       “Shut up and listen breeder. If you take your thumb and put it on the counter and then take a ball-peen hammer and bring it down full force on your thumb nail…..that would only rate a four on a birth scale of ten!” I stood there not making a move and trying to remember where my hammers were. “Then,” she whispered in a hoarse voice, “I could nail your scrodum to your work bench and then connect a tow chain to the leg of the bench and to the bumper of the car and then peel out of the driveway hollering ‘congratulation, you just gave birth to a useless nut sack!!’”

       At this point I’m sweating profusely. “Boy, I tell ya hon, you really went through it,” I said. “What you did can’t be measured and I’m so proud of you.”

       “And then,” she said as the room was beginning to spin. “your first question to me after you brought me home. Do you remember?”

       “Ahhhhh….can I get you a beer?”

       “No my love stallion,” she smiled, “you asked me how long until we could get nasty again? I had more stitches than grandma’s quilt and all you were concerned in was when the next ‘nookie’ express was due!! And what about the hemorrhoids!!! I had em hanging like ripe tomatoes on the vine!!”

       At this point I fell to my knees sobbing and begging for forgiveness. I had forgotten all of this and I was amazed at her recall. She turned around and went back and sat down. What I learned that night is that it’s not easy being a sperm supplier. As to the fact she was the last one with my contribution and was thus responsible for it upkeep and maintenance……why should I have to be mentally castrated to understand her dilemma? Some things are just better off being lost to memory.

                                                                                                   Charlie

   

  • 4:01 pm
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