I am sorry for many things.
Firstly, my overactive fertility. Although I do blame you for everything else about this situation (!); that I feel is my doing. I had my scan and the baby is bouncing and well. Even the big fibroid that was discovered did not seem to bother the baby, and is not bothering me either. No wonder I thought I might have twins (Lord God Forbid! I wouldn't survive!) as the fibroid is 2X the size of the baby itself. I did think I was MUCH larger than the last 2 pregnancies.
Secondly, for blaming you for everything else about this situation. I have just finished being a grouchy grouch on the phone to you. Sorry. After work, if I am in the office and it is a 'late' day, the hour and a half between 5:30 and 7 pm is killer. Particularly, the poor children are exhausted by day 4, and are so tired, so irrational, so tearful, so whiney, so clingy, and such major drama queens, it is VERY tiring to manage them. It is VERY difficult to maintain my patience on my own. And it is sad for me, having the only little bit of time with them be such crappy time - with me trying to police non-sharing squabbles, and my older son's extremely irrational behaviour...my younger son just wailing due to toddler tiredness. If I have to tell my older son off a bit for doing something mean/not sharing/being irrational he deteriorates into crying. At these moments he then is whining "I need a cuddle...", and "I want daddy...". And I think 'yeah kid, me too.'
So by the time you phone, husband, at 8:30, I am beaten down, and doing jobs like the kitty litter, needing to get the bin from the windy rainy misery outside, sweeping nursery sand grit from the hall, opening 3 days worth of mail, and trying to put together some rubbish to eat (tonight a can of soup, a babybel cheese, and a satsuma - last night a can of baked beans with cheese). When you call, I have already had it, and I AM blaming you. I KNOW the kids being tired and horrible is not your fault. I KNOW the cat's poo is not your fault, I KNOW the mail back up isn't your fault....but when you call, I just think 'Damn yooooouuuuuuu, YOU could be doing the cat litter and getting the bin! Where's my proper dinner!' :)
Lastly, I apologize for the state of the house you are going to return to. The front hall is a gritty sand-pit. The bin is a reeky poo-cesspool (since the new recycling programme, there barely is any garbage, all that's left is kitty litter and diapers, and a relatively small volume, so it festers in the bin even longer - lovely). The kitchen lights only have 25% consistent capability, and I have to use my 'magic' wand (the wooden spoon) to tap the bulbs on kitchen entry to have them activate - I never did call that electrician I meant to! One of the only no-toys-allowed rooms, the spare room, is to be taken over by yet another childish inhabitant, so the toy creep to all corners of our universe is inevitable. Oh, and I'll be a bulgy-belly chubba. Welcome home!
I am sorry for all that. Soooo...ummm...what DO you want for Christmas? How can I make it up to you? Perhaps I'll be a nicer lady next time you call. I think I might be able to manage that. XX I love you.