Messing with my head...

In a follow-up to yesterday's pitiful post, I'm now starting to feel less and less guilty about forgetting my Bloke's birthday, as I think he is up to something...

I'm almost 100% sure that he is pretending to have told me stuff, then pretending I have forgotten, just to get him out of trouble when he has forgotten to tell me something (that's a lot of pretending and forgetting)...

For example, yesterday afternoon via email:

Him: Remember that I'm out bowling tonight with people from work...
Me: It's not called remembering if you never told me in the 1st place...
Him: I definitely told you...
Me: No you didn't...
Him: I did - maybe not that it was bowling but definitely that I was out...

Don't worry - there was no antagonism in this exchange. I'm quite happy to have an evening of eating stuff for dinner that my Bloke doesn't like and watching rubbish TV, plus not having the AC set at 'frost' level (I seem to be over the overheating meltdowns that plagued my early pregnancy).

But it bothers me that I have might have completely forgotten yet another thing... still thinking he's messing with my head....

Worst pregnancy brain (and worst wife) ever

So, if forgetting my Bloke's birthday yesterday wasn't bad enough, I managed to forget despite:

• hearing the doorbell ring early (I was still asleep) & getting up in the morning to find a bottle of wine on the table (from my husband's driver) - then proceeding to ask my Bloke over email who woke me up ringing the bell and why is there a bottle of wine in the living room?
• scrolling past my phone calendar reminder of his birthday to check where I was meeting a new friend later that day...
• talking to him on the phone for 15 minutes and still not remembering...

I finally remembered at lunchtime and sent him a message.  

In my defence, my Bloke doesn't like to celebrate his birthday - he thinks greeting cards are a waste of money and paper (after 10 years together he has gradually come round to getting me a card, most years). We have also been in the midst of apartment/hospital/furniture-hunting chaos and my brain was fully occupied with finding us somewhere to live.

OK, there's really no excuse - he knew he probably wasn't getting a gift (he doesn't mind about this usually) but might have expected a 'Happy Birthday' at some point... what can I say? I'm the worst wife ever :(