This post is sponsored by Samsung. But written by me. Hooray for sponsors! Polite-yet-bored golf claps for me.
So I'm sure you've all heard about the "push present" thing, right? The completely-invented-by-jewelry-companies idea that you, as a childbearing female, deserve some kind of butt-expensive bling or present from your partner in the getting knocked-up process? And while I'm being all sarcastic and seemingly above-it-all here, you should be aware I am also totally the recipient of two previous sparkly gifts from my husband, and did not complain AT ALL about him caving to some silly fake tradition, because LOOK AT HOW PRETTY?
Anyway. Push Presents. That. Though I call them my "Major (Adominal Surgery) Awards."
And I kinda felt that by baby number three, we were pretty much over the whole idea. Jason never mentioned it, and after writing the checks for Noah's summer camp and Ezra's preschool deposit I figured we'd already spent enough money on the invaluable gift of FREE TIME FOR MOMMY.
(Plus I accidentally sort-of maybe temporarily or possibly permanently I don't want to talk about it lost the ring Jason got me after Ezra's birth. I know! I can't even. Am an idiot. This Is Why I Can't Have Nice Things, etc.)
Anyway! Back to the sponsored-type topic. Rewind to the night before Ike's birth. I was busy gathering up all still-unpacked items on my hospital bag list and asked Jason if I could put my laptop in his computer bag, which I assumed he was taking.
He started to hem and haw, first saying he didn't think my laptop would fit. I should put it in my suitcase.
I stared at him and blinked, because we ALWAYS fit both our laptops in his bag whenever we travel.
Uh. Wait. No. He meant he didn't think he was going to bring his laptop or bag at all. So I should put it in my suitcase.
I stared at him some more, counting to 10 in my brain to stave off a late-stage-pregnancy fuh-reeeeeak out, and then asked if seriously, could he please bring his laptop bag and carry my computer for me, I am pretty sure my suitcase is full, plus I might want it before he got a chance to retrieve the suitcase from the car WHY ARE YOU ARGUING WITH ME GAAAHHHHHBZZZT.
It'll fit in your suitcase, he said. Why don't you go check?
(WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DENSE, we both probably thought, simultaneously. GOOD GOD.)
Later, he found me struggling to shove my laptop into my purse. He once again suggested I take a second look at the fullness level of my suitcase.
So I did. AND IT WAS FULL. LOOK AT HOW FULL THIS SUITCASE IS. WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME OUT WAIT THIS SUITCASE IS ACTUALLY FULLER THAN IT WAS THIS MORNING, WTF.
I dug under my bathrobe and discovered a box. What in the world did I pack in a box, I wondered. That's a hugely impractical waste of space and I've been perfecting this bag's contents for over a month now and...ohhhhhh.
Finally, after about four hours' worth of hints from my husband (who was now sitting on the bed behind me, smiling gleefully) did it all start making sense when I realized that instead of jewelry, I was now the proud owner of a shiny, sparkly new tablet computer. I could not have been more surprised. Or spastically excited.
The tablet was packed neatly in my purse. The laptop stayed home.
When I could manage to keep Jason from stealing it from me at the hospital, I used it for email, for organizing and sending out the first photos of Ike, for blogging, Twitter, and Facebook. I read Bossypants in its entirety and watched a rental of The King's Speech. I installed apps for breastfeeding and medication reminders and took picture after picture of my new swaddled-up burrito baby with it.
Oh, and Angry Birds. I played a HEAPTON of Angry Birds.