Confessions of a Stereotypical Pregnant Lady
Pardon my french but they are a total witch sometimes. And by witch I mean pull the 5th grade trick and change the “w” to a “b”. Yeah, I said it.
They do a lady so wrong. They can turn even the nicest of gals (I’m looking at you Kate Middleton, you can’t be immune too because then life really isn’t fair), into the world’s nastiest grumpasarus or the largest producer of saltwater west of the Atlantic.
Here’s a scene for you. It was a lovely Friday morning. The husband and I were at adorable Jack and Jill sinks, simultaneously brushing our teeth, our babe happily running amuck behind us, pretending to brush her teeth as well. Picturesque. Then the Rands had the audacity to say, “What are your plans for today? I don’t know what you guys are up to.”
What the h? Enter dramatic, hurtful tears. I mean how could he? Is it just me or is that an obviously insensitive question? Oh, it’s just me. And my hormones. Poor guy. He didn’t see it coming.
Fact: I have always been a crier. It is my go-to emotion and now with pregnancy, we’ve got sad tears, happy tears, endless tears.
Last week, when some crazy goat lady overly chastised my daughter at the state fair and threatened to spank her, (for doing little wrong, legitimately, I’m not being biased, she was just trying to give your goats a little hay ma’am), I just started to bawl. The mama bear in me wishes I would have said something just as rude to the lady but no, my hormones made me want to turn into a second-grader, crying giant, big, pathetic tears and uttering unintelligible sentences between sobs. Luckily, we kept our dignity intact by walking away and letting the goat lady sort through what I’m hoping was just a crazy hormonal surge as well.
Another fact: I am a dam waiting to burst. Just one television commercial away from losing it at any moment. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve had to pause Grey’s Anatomy because my husband can’t hear over my blubbering. And don’t even get me started on Parenthood. In addition to parental warnings, they need pregnancy warnings on television shows. But then again, who knows what sets a pregnant lady off. I never knew there was more to The Voice than Christina Aguilera’s ample bosom but now, that show moves me…to tears, obviously.
Whether your hormones require you to be pre-emptively incarcerated like a wolfman or a blubbering ball of wasteless space, dem hormones, they real. With my now nightly surge of hormones, cravings, and feelings, I’m pretty certain I’m keeping the cereal companies afloat. Those Lucky Charms really are magically delicious when I need to eat my pregnant feelings.
The thing about hormones is they always feel so real. I mean, even if you know you’re being a crazy lady (I’m looking at you goat lady) you still feel angry, hurt, pissed, TO’ed what have you, and it’s hard to talk you down. I think my feelings about hormones could be best expressed by the 1980s power ballad, “Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore” because it speaks to my moody soul. I can’t fight these hormonal feelings anymore.
The silver lining in all of these hormonal outbursts? My daughter and I have plenty of applicable material for discussions about feelings and understanding the different reasons people cry. Yes, Harper, I’m crying because dad finished off all the Lucky Charms…
Image: Wolfman via Christos Georghiou/Shutterstock.com