There are people out there that really love wrestling. They love watching it on TV and they love actually wrestling. I am not one of those people. Sure, when I was younger, I watched Hulk Hogan, Randy 'Macho Man' Savage and 'Hacksaw' Jim Duggan go at it in the ring. What kid doesn't watch wrestling at least once in their lives? But after I turned, oh let's say twelve, I was over it.
Now, my husband, on the other hand, loves wrestling. He does not like watching it. He loves to actually wrestle.
When I walk through my house, at any point, I could be ambushed. I could be walking out of the bathroom, bending down to tie my shoe or putting groceries away. One never knows, when my hubby will repel from the ceiling ala Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible or jump out from behind something ala Arnold Schwarzenegger in Commando to put me in a head lock. It does not hurt me. Just simply irritates the crap out of me.
So, when I found out I was pregnant with J, lucky me! I got a break from the wrestling. Then, we had the ultrasound and we found out we were having a boy. Eureka! Hubby will have a playmate. J arrives via c-section so I have a couple of months of rest, then game on! Uh-oh. So, I quickly decide I need another break, so enter pregnancy with LT. Find out he is a boy. Score! Hubby now has two playmates. Like J, I have LT via c-section so I get a several month break from the grappling.
But, now, LT is 15 months. I think we all know what this means. (What?! Get pregnant again! You must have lost your mind! I mean I would like to boldly walk through my house without fear of being tackled at anytime, but not so much as to get preggo! Yikes!) What this means is that my reprieve is over and has been for sometime.
I guess I will need to brush up on my figure eight leg lock.