Yesterday, after an hour long car trip back from getting my eyebrows waxed (yes and hour, and no, don’t ask) my boyfriend looked over at me and out of the clear blue sky asked me, “what is it called when you get post baby mentals?”
“It’s called post baby mentals,” I deadpanned.
“No, really, what’s it called – post something…” he trailed off in thought.
My boyfriend has a terrible memory for details (with the exception of details pertaining to sport), so quite often he’ll find himself confounded by names, places, dates etc. So far my strategy is to never help him. How will he learn if I just give him the answers? After a moment he thought he had the answer:
“Is it postmortem depression?” he questioned very hesitantly.
“only if you can be depressed from beyond the grave,” I replied.
“Just tell me what it’s called!” he whined.
“Post baby mentals,” I replied as I finally pulled into the driveway.
The conversation then turned to who would get the mail versus who would bring the shopping in. I said I would do neither seeing as how I needed to hop on Facebook right away to post this very enlightened conversation. With not wanting to be outed as an insensitive and ill-informed twat he dutifully brought in both the mail and the shopping. As it currently stands I still don’t know if he knows the correct term for postpartum depression.