Yesterday I cried while talking to the barista at Starbucks, then went and cried at my stylists and then once again when I got home while talking to Big Red.
I get it, I’m pregnant. But seriously. I can hear a voice in my head telling me to dry up and get control of myself but I can’t…so then I get frustrated…AT MYSELF!! It’s like being an emotional drunk all the time without actually getting to drink anything or sober up long enough to laugh at myself or send embarrassing apology text messages to my family members.
Here’s the low down. I had been to my fairy god mother for a bleaching a few days ago but, since the whole pregnancy thing, my hair is acting bizarre and not taking color like it used to. Would Dolly Parton give up on her blonde just because things got difficult? Not a chance people. So I had to go back yesterday and get it fixed. FGM likes to get started early and I was supposed to be there by 7am. Red has group training starting at 5:30am so we were trying to carefully coordinate his arrival home and my departure so that we wouldn’t have to wake ole Snooze VonDrools (also known as my son) before he had to get up and go to school. By 6:50am my husband was neither at home nor answering phone calls/text messages which I strategically worded to incite panic and urgency without having to apologize later. So I woke up my angel, listened as attentively as possible to a story about something called ‘The Moo’ which must have chased him in his dream and scared the holy moses out of him, threw clothes on him and shoved a banana in his hand all while buckling him into the carseat. My daily energy reserves were entirely depleted by this few minutes of epic multi-tasking. Entirely.
Then up pulls my husband. I don’t want to completely incriminate myself but I went a little bonkers, threw a kid at him and squealed out of the driveway (that’s the short version rated for all audiences). Running late for my appointment I sped straight to Starbucks for my Valencia Orange Refresher; it is the one thing that gets me through the long, hot days that follow my tormented sleepless nights. As long as I know I can go get my refresher it’s okay that I only slept for two hours, peed 37 times and definitely pulled a ligament dramatically kicking the sheets off of myself during a heat induced hissy-fit. It’s all ok.
The line is forever long, I’m texting fairy god mother asking if she’s like a coffee since I’m totally showing up late with no excuse. Finally I tell super-happy-barista-dude that I need my refresher and he joyfully tells me that it was a seasonal drink whose inventory has been depleted. Say what? Where’s your manager! The manager engages his psycho customer voice and calmly explains supply chain management to me as my bottom lip begins to quiver.
“OKgreatthanksIgottago.” I sped out of line thinking I needed to hide my tears from the other cars (who are all texting or facebooking while in line, btw, none of them are paying attention).
I arrive at my appointment empty handed and 15 minutes late. I began to tell Fairy God Mother about my morning but realized she was in mid conversation with her previous, on-time customer. So I joined in. This sweet lady was talking about how she lost her son in a car accident; he had three small children and wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I sobbed. I had to be given a tissue, it was embarrassing to get that emotional in front of a stranger. Even the sweet lady telling the story was confused at my reaction (the accident happened years ago, apparently). Spent the next hour avoiding pathetic stares from everyone in the beauty shop then left to hurry home; I was running a bit late taking John to school. I rolled up in the driveway, honked my horn and ran in to pick up my dressed, fed, ready-to-go-to school toddler…false, he was naked and watching a movie with daddy. At 8:55am. Packed a lunch, backpack, change of clothes, nap mat and back out the door.
When I got home from tossing John to his teacher at school Red was dancing around the house avoiding my swollen-faced stare as much as possible…without a word I got the bag of Ranch Doritos I’d hidden under the sink and went to my bedroom to watch Duck Dynasty and catch my breath. Red enters, asking me if I was trying to make a dramatic point by pouting in our room by myself….yes, yes I was. He then proceeds to tell me that I am a cute pregnant lady who he is lucky to have and he really just lost track of time this morning hanging out with Johnny; he also added that he had changed his whole day just so that I could go get my hair did, again. So I started crying again. I felt terrible for being volcano-angry at one of the only people who can tolerate me right now let alone wants to be around me and tells me he thinks I’m pretty. Who yells at that guy? OK technically I didn’t yell at him but I tore him up in my head all the way to school and back. He held me and laughed while I bawled uncontrollably.
After chips and Duck Dynasty I was feeling more like myself again. I walked into our kitchen and realized I hadn’t cleaned the house in about a month…I’d been out of town for a bit, but still…animals were moving in assuming the place had been abandoned. I knew I should shoo the raccoons out but I had zero energy. Zero. It was around 10:30 and I was done for the day. Then I started to mentally beat myself up for being a lazy, loser turd. I haven’t washed all the baby clothes, I haven’t put Beau’s crib together, I haven’t cleaned out the guest room closet or gotten the breast pump out…and now when I have time to do it I don’t wanna. I really don’t wanna!
You know what I want? Sangria. Since the day I got pregnant I have been craving a tall, cold pitcher of sangria. Let me clear this up; I like wine, I drink wine but I haven’t ever craved it before. I’ve talked to other preggos and they’ve told me about similar experiences (something about wanting what you can’t have…) and that makes me feel kind of normal. I am planning on having a discreet flask of sangria in the delivery room so that as soon as Baby Beau Bear pops out (or however he decides to enter this world) I can chug it like it’s my job. No judgement.
Just a few more weeks til I get to hold Beau and John at the same time!!! I”m starting to nest quite a bit when I find bursts of energy and I have a list of projects I want done in the next two months. Red loves it every time I tell him about what ‘we’ are going to do as he knows I’m eventually going to find a seat and put my feet up while telling him how pregnant I am 🙂