Well, it’s Monday, and if that didn’t suck enough to begin with, my Sunday was a Sunday to rival all Mondays… and then some.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I’m a sensitive soul to begin with, and pregnancy is seriously doing a number on my brain. Saturday night began amazingly, with J coming home from work (yup, emergency job on a Saturday. Le poop.), hands full of groceries and surprising me by telling me he was making me dinner. He also brought home a bag full of peaches because I had mentioned that this was my most recent craving. He also restocked the freezer with ice cream. Basically, he was wonderful. We then cuddled up in bed and watched a very unromantic movie, which for some reason put me in the mood. Well, it had nothing to do with the movie. It was simply the fact that pregnancy has had one of two effects on me:
- Sex has never been a more repulsive thought. If you try to touch me, I will be forced to kill you, or at least deliver a very serious blow below the belt in order to stave off further advances. Both of those actions are frowned upon, so I suggest you just don’t try.
- I want it. All the time. Wherever, whenever, however. I suspect that this is a combo of the hormones (carrying a boy pumps testosterone into your body, FYI ladies) and the fact that I need validation that I am, in fact, still sexy despite the 30lb weight gain and the massive soccer ball that insists on protruding from my middle and making some types of intimacy impossible.
This was a clear case of scenario 2 being in full force. J was already half asleep and once he’s gone he’s gone. Rationally, I know this. Irrationally, I took this as a slight and fell asleep crying. I woke up a kajillion times during the night due to horrible heartburn and pain in my back and sides every time I tried to roll over in my sleep; yet somehow, when Sunday morning rolled around, I got up bright eyed and bushy tailed. I then proceeded to make a huge breakfast (bacon, pancakes, strawberries… YUM!) which I triumphantly presented to J… who triumphantly ate the meal with much gratitude, but then immediately went back to bed. Curses. Scenario 2 was still playing out full force in my brain. I got really cranky and restless and basically ended up crying, packing the dog into my car, and leaving the house.
I cried the whole way to my mother’s place, where I deposited the dog, and then met a friend for lunch. As I was describing my actions to her, I became more and more aware of how crazy I sounded (it is now very obvious to me why Jenny McCarthy wrote a chapter entitled Psycho Chick (Hormonal Rage) in her book Belly Laughs and Vicky Iovine wrote about ‘pregnancy insanity’ in The Girlfriends’ Guide to Pregnancy). It became especially apparent when I told her that he’d brought me peaches, and I suddenly burst out with, “and I just left… without even eating any of those beautiful peaches”, tears pooling in my eyes. Wow. So yeah, J got a nice big apology phone call (which he took very well), and I picked up the dog and drove home.
At this point, I had a terrible headache, but at least I was happy because I realized my insanity was just temporary. We were then invited to J’s parents’ for dinner. Normally, we bring the dog, but as you may recall, she just had surgery and can’t be around other dogs/must be kept calm for the next two weeks. The vet had told me to keep her isolated in one room (since she was acting all nuts like nothing ever happened and he was afraid she would tear her stitches and put a damper on the healing process), so we figured it was no big deal to lock her in the bathroom. After all, she is kennel trained and used to being alone for up to four hours at a time. We took her outside to do her business first of course. Failure to do so would just be negligent! So, out she went, into the bathroom she went, and off we went for a home cooked meal.
And then we returned home to Disastertown.
Despite my best efforts, and despite the fact that this has NEVER EVER happened before, I returned home to a very wiggly puppy, and:
I almost lost my shit. Okay, horrible pun, but I did almost lose my dinner. I have never ever ever seen a mess like that in my life. First thing, I threw her in the bathtub. Would have been easy to deal with if she didn’t have stitches that can’t get wet, but instead I had to spot wash her… no easy task with a wiggly puppy who is just so excited to see you and wants to be up in your face at all times (ew ew ew dog… EW!). I then threw her outside (okay, didn’t throw, but I may have envisioned punting her out the back door à la Jack Black in Anchorman) and ran back upstairs before J could discover the mess. You see, he has a horribly weak stomach and then I would have been cleaning up after him too. I then scrubbed the floor with Mr. Clean, a Swiffer Wet Jet, and Clorox. I don’t think the bathroom has ever been so clean… but just so you get the picture, I also had to throw out everything in the tub (all my shampoos and soaps, loofa etc) as well as the shower curtains.
As if this weren’t bad enough, my head was pounding even more by the time I was done and I really really really needed a shower… Well, wouldn’t you know that I can’t run a hot washing machine and take a hot shower at the same time. Dammit. I hadn’t even considered this when I threw all the dirty wash cloths and towels into the washing machine and hit the ‘hot’ button. I never wash anything on hot, but I just had to in this case! Without the sterilizing properties of hot water, I considered scrubbing my skin with Clorox, but figured I probably wouldn’t function well for the rest of my life without skin. I opted for good ol’ Old Spice instead. I needed something powerful. Something that would smell clean so that I wouldn’t think about what I’d just been forced to touch. I then got out of the shower smelling like J when he gets out of the shower, which usually makes me weak in the knees, but guess what!? Despite my two day obsession with scenario two, that was the last thing on my mind. I crawled into bed, J wrapped his arms around me, and I fell asleep as Baby H kicked away.
So Monday, whatever you have in store, I think I can handle it. Booyahkasha!