My poor husband. I fear this whole new parenthood experience has been especially bewildering to him the last few days. Just when he thought I was coming around back to my old self (if such a thing is possible for a woman following the birth of a baby), he found me in the nursery crying at the change table, a dirty wipe in my hand, tears running down my cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just exhausted,” I explained, as though he should know the answer to his own question.

Try as they might, I’m convinced that new dads just cannot wrap their heads around how their partners in parenthood are forced to change when the baby comes. They think they’re sleep deprived? To that, I spew a big, fat, “PFFT.” Unless my husband has secretly sprouted a pair of breasts, begun lactating and been sneaking into our seven week old son’s room to feed him in the night, he really will never be able to understand what it’s been like to be the new mom in this family.

I thought I’d do new dads a favour and enlighten them with a few gems that have been lost in translation around our house over the past couple of months.

When you say, “The house is a mess,” what she hears is, “You’re lazy and failing at motherhood and I picked the wrong woman to bear the fruit of my loins.”

When she says, “I’m exhausted,” what she really means “I want you to hug me and tell me you love me and then send me to bed without the baby.”

When you say, “Do you think you might like to go and see your psychologist?” what she hears is, “I think you might be going crazy and I can’t listen to one more day of your complaining about being tired.”

When you ask, “Want me to watch the baby while you have a shower?” what she hears is, “You stink. Don’t you want to go and hose off that odorous cocktail of baby poop, puke and pee?”

When you suggest that the two of you have a date night out, what she hears is, “How long will it be before I can jump your bones again?”

When you ask, “What’s going on with you?” what she hears is, “Are you crying again? Because I really can’t take it if you’re going to cry again.”

When you say, “You’re a good mom,” what she hears is, “You’re a good mom.”

(You might want to jot that last one down.)