Red Red Whine

So this past week I became a basket case.  It’s embarrassing, as I usually pride myself on being a fairly logical, rational human being.  Once upon a time, my own mother called me “robo-child,” as I just wasn’t one for emoting.  I really hate crying and sniveling, especially in public.  I’m even mortified to type it all out here, but hell, y’all have heard about my pubes and my boobs.  What is a little crybaby streak amongst friends?

The worst part is that I can’t really say what my damage is.  I’d like to chalk it up to hormones, but A) this ain’t my first rodeo, and B) my buddy Dr Google doesn’t indicate that there should be much unusual going on at this point on the gestational roller coaster.  Sure, you expect to be a mess early on as well as immediately after you expel your little passenger from your body.  This doesn’t qualify as either event. 

Maybe it’s just fatigue.  My energy sure isn’t what it ought to be.  I also feel like my head is a malfunctioning Excel spreadsheet.  The appointments, meetings, tasks, and typical chores that I can usually balance and manage fairly effortlessly are cascading in a really bad way right now.  Whenever something goes wrong – a site I manage at work, that gross nasty old man coughing too much, a bungled Dr’s appointment – I’m taking it all very personally.  The news, the election.  All of it.  It’s ridiculous.

And Stella.  My wonderful maddening mysterious kid.  A good day with her is enough to wear a usual adult out.  Factor in holidays, appointments, play dates, a time change1 and you’re screwed.  Totally screwed.

I realize we can’t all be Martha Stewart or June Cleaver.  We can’t be perfect wives, moms, housekeepers, and worker bees simultaneously.  I just need this interlude to pass quickly.  Here’s my fervent hope and wish to the stars of the pregovurse:  Let this be some kind of odd hormonal hiccup and let it be over with like NOW.  I have to much to do to fool with this.

1 Whoever is ultimately responsible for this time change – and I’m sure someone somewhere can pin it on one person – was a complete bastard and clearly never had children.  I hope this individual is in the same hell with the men who invented the cubicle and the leaf blower.

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
This entry was posted in Parenting, pregnancy and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Red Red Whine

  1. I lost it right at the end, too. The exhaustion of carrying one child while rearing the other made me much more sensitive to external forces than I would’ve been normally. I’m is the same group as you – crying is NOT for public in my mind – and the last month with A2 was full of messy, ugly sobs.

  2. Oh man, am I glad to find a kindred spirit out there. I do not have one on the outside and will only ever have the one so will never quite understand your level of fatigue I’m sending props to you for carrying on – even with the odd crying session.

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