Debra Pickett

There's what you say and there's what you mean.

So there was that whole conversation in which R. said I should, if I'm having trouble sleeping, feel free to wake him up. You know, so he could share in the joys of pregnancy, too. And I responded that I probably wouldn't do that -- on purpose. much. -- because there was no point in both of us being sleepless and cranky.

Then there was the reality of me waking him up at 2:30 this morning to ask, "Do only dogs get hip dysplasia?"

[Answer: Apparently not. Though it seems unlikely that I have it, despite the fact that I'm sure this is what it feels like.]

He responded with something mildly comforting, like that leg cramps are apparently very common in pregnant women. (I love that he read a couple of the pregnancy books without telling me.) He also mentioned that cows get hip dysplasia, too, which is not as rude as it sounds because we actually own cows. (Long story.)

Then, he went back to sleep.

Two hours later, when I noticed him stirring slightly, I asked if he wanted to play cards. (Isn't that what people with insomnia do?)

This made him laugh. But he declined. Largely because I don't actually know any card games. And because he knew I'd fall back asleep eventually.

I am trying to come up with some sort of hard-and-fast rule on what constitutes being a pain-in-the-ass versus just being honest about one's needs. So far, I'm just making it up as I go along.

And, so far, pretty much anything I want is reasonable. Right?