It's hormone-induced craziness. I was going to call it PIC (pregnancy), but it lasts longer than the pregnancy does...well into the post-partum period.
So, for the past week while I haven't been blogging, I've been keeping busy doing other things - like not delivering a baby, running to and from the kids' school for various functions, cleaning for my parents' arrival (today) while they stay and wait for Shep#4 to make his/her appearance, and finishing a 1,000 piece puzzle instead of installing an infant carseat in my van, packing my hospital bag, and finalizing names for our precious, almost-here fourth child.
Oh - and I've been having some seriously ridiculous hormone-induced crazy episodes.
Poor Sam.
Two days ago, I burst into tears because I spilled salsa on my shirt and pants. That's really the extent of it and therefore fully explains the craziness, but it felt like a much bigger deal at the time. We had spent the day in the garage staining the bunk beds Sam built for our girls to share once Shep#4 arrives - well, Sam stained and I swept up sawdust and tried to look busy enough to not feel guilty about him working circles around me. I deliberately didn't wear my favorite red pants to work in so I would have their comfort to look forward to when I went back inside. When we decided it was quitting time, we went inside, fixed some dinner, I showered and changed into one of my only maternity tops that is long enough to cover my belly at this point and my awesome, beloved red yoga pants. I went into the kitchen, opened the fridge to look for a ginger ale, and a container of salsa spilled out. I'd worn both articles of clothing for about 3 minutes. Cue the waterworks.
This morning I burst into tears because Sam stripped our bed to wash the sheets. Why did this make me cry, you wonder? Good question. It seemed "perfectly logical" to me at the time, but in retrospect (it's amazing what a couple of hours can do for your mental status), I realize it was a complete and total overreaction. I cried because I felt that by him washing the sheets, he was somehow suggesting that I do not pull my household weight around here well enough for him. I cried tears of guilt, anger, and shame. He stood and looked at me confusedly and asked if he should put the sheets back on the bed. I assured him no. Because even in the midst of the craziness, I could still tell I was being crazy. I was just powerless to stop it.
And these are just two small examples of 9+ months of total insanity. I'm sorry, Sam. I guess this is just all part of the package.
Perhaps one of my more memorable "historic" meltdowns came the day I got home from delivering sweet lil' Abby five and a half years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. My parents and mother-in-law prepared a meal for us to come home to. I think it was Chicken Parmesan. I sat down at the table, took one look at the bread, and had to get up and go to the other room to sob. My mother-in-law had made garlic toast out of the fresh Italian bread. Apparently, I really did not want toast, but soft, fresh Italian bread with butter. Somehow, I expected her to know this, and the loss of that fresh bread was too much for me to bear. See? Ridiculous.
How about you? Got any crazy stories like this? I promise this is not my typical personality. But we all have our moments. Some of the moments just last a wee bit longer and come a wee bit more often than others.
By the by, if anyone is keeping tabs on this pregnancy, my due date is March 6th putting me ~37.5 weeks right now. If you think it would be great fun to enter a guess in my baby pool - go here. I'm not going to say there will be a prize because that would probably make me cry for some reason (ha!), but there will be bragging rights galore. And a personal shout-out on the blog? (Whatever that is worth!)
Hope you all are well - and I'm so sorry for my absence both from this blog of my own and the so many blogs I love to visit, read, and comment on. Someday I'll be a better blog friend!!!
Imagined up by
3 comments:
Oh, I know HIC well. Once you catch it, it never goes away. It just lies dormant until you're either pregnant again or turning 50. Only then, you're not adorable with a Buddha belly. You're wrinkly with a Bertha butt. Sad, sad, state of affairs this HIC.
I don't know why you are still struggling with names, though. Just go all Hollywood and name him/her after a food product.
How about Salsa Sheppard? That has a nice ring to it.
Stop crying. I'm only kidding. (:
HIC - I think I remember what that was like. MIC is much, much worse (Menopause-Induced Craziness). And you don't have anything cute to show for it - like an adorable new baby. You just have wrinkles and those *adorable* body features that Debbie mentioned. (She forgot the other "B" - Buddha belly, Bertha butt, AND Below-the-Belt bosoms)
Food product name? OK - how about Shishkabob Sheppard. I personally like the alliteration thing...
Hang in there, Jennie - things will be better soon. And then, one day, you'll have four preteen/teenagers in your house (or more??). That'll really give you something to cry about...
GOD BLESS!
So.... you might have a little Sadie Hawkins in the oven? Is that what I hear? Just so you know, I would think that to be very, very cool.
Please don't dare have that baby without telling Grammie to email me.
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