All aboard the Irrationality Express

I guess I’ve always been pretty lucky in the hormone department. I never suffered from PMS (though some ex-boyfriends may say otherwise but I say it was just aggravation from putting up with their garbage) and was overall pretty lucky to be on a pretty even hormonal keel.

Let’s just say that pregnancy has made me even more grateful that I’m usually not a hormonal mess and that there is hope that I will one day once again be emotionally “normal” again. I’m pretty sure that my husband is wishing for this, almost more than I am for all the fun hormonal roller coaster rides we’ve taken over the past 9 1/2 months.

These pregnant ‘meltdowns’ usually follow a pretty predictable pattern–my brain will just be chugging along when something will catch my eye and I will then fixate on it until I am so worked up and in tears, that the world will just end if SOMETHING is not done to fix this heinous wrong and immediately. The best part? My husband is usually in another room while all this pre-show action is occuring, so by the time he sees me I am a red, sweaty, snotty, thisclosetohyperventilating, bawling mess and he has no clue what has occured to set me off. He will then respond like it is a life or death emergency (such as I’ve just found out my grandmother is dying of cancer, there’s a huge poisonous snake in front of the washer etc) and try to gently pry out of me what exactly the problem is. (Did I also mention that for extra fun, I also like to spring this on him while he’s sleeping, so not only is he disoriented from trying to figure out what my problem is, he’s disoreinted and groggy from being jarred from a nice sound sleep?)

Actual conversation that has occured in my house recently:

(me bursting into the bedroom while bawling hysterically): I just can’t do this anymore

(my poor husband who seconds before was blissfully dreaming that he was at Hooter’s on all you can eat buffalo wings day/waitress tops optional day) Wha…? (super concerned voice) Honey-what’s wrong?

(me) You. You are wrong. I was in the kitchen and then I realized that the dresser wasn’t finished yet and the suitcase is never going put away downstairs and…and the neighbors are MOWING THEIR LAWN (this last part is said a little more forcefully just for emphasis…because don’t you know that the neighbors were just mowing it because they knew it would be the final straw for me)

(my husband) I’m sorry? (trying really hard to figure out which of the things I have just mentioned might be his fault)

(me) Just…never mind. I’ll just do it all on my own. I will just have this baby all by myself (you don’t see any wild tendencies toward martyrdom here, do you?)

(my husband) Um…okay? (trying to figure out which way of answering might be the most safe and will not set me off further)

(me really REALLY peeved now) OH YOU’D LIKE THAT WOULDN’T YOU. Why don’t you love me enough to just help me like I need you to (because yeah, you’d really want to help a rattlesnake about to strike too, I’d bet…plus yeah, I probably haven’t actually mentioned any of this out loud previously and am expecting my husband to just somehow ‘know’ what it is I need done)

(my husband using the most soothing calming voice he has in order to not set me off) Honey…it’s okay…we’ll make a list and it will all get done. I promise. Now come lay down for a nap (ooh..he’s brought out the secret weapon-SLEEP)

Then I take a nap and when I wake up, its like it never happened. Usually, I can see the humor in just how totally around the bend I went–not that I’d ever admit it out loud though.