As much as I love long weekends, they always leave me feeling drained and completely useless, and this weekend was no exception. Today I’m fighting the urge to lean back in my chair and close my eyes.
I’ve entered the phase of my pregnancy in which I’m ready for it to all be over. I can’t deal with people anymore, and I can’t deal with their stupid questions, like, “when are you due?” and even worse, “do you know what you’re having?” Having to answer these questions repeatedly makes me want to strangle the next unsuspecting person to open their mouths in my general direction.
And let me tell you, my wrath is not something you want coming at you full force. My brother felt it this weekend when I unleashed the hell beast that is inside of me upon him. It rained down fire and brimstone and death and all that not so pretty stuff as I repeatedly screamed the f word for my entire family to hear at 2am Saturday morning. My first true hormonal psychotic episode followed. I’ve had a lot of moments in the past 7 months when I sink into despair and cry my eyes out, but I’m always able to calm myself down. Saturday night I was not able to calm myself. Ryan couldn’t calm me down, not even with all of our Lamaze breathing and relaxation techniques. I cried for 2 and a half hours non-stop, and I can’t even tell you why. I think I was delirious from being at camp, being up so late, being surrounded by (drunken) family and friends, and every little thing was eating away at my last nerve until I finally snapped. Needless to say, I’m not speaking to my brother, and as stupid as I feel about completely snapping, I also feel somewhat justified. I’m fucking pregnant and I don’t need stress from other people, and the moment that they stress me out, I’m going to tell them about it. Even if the telling involves me screaming out into the night “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING????” because my brother drunkenly threw a chair into the campfire. Seems silly, I know, but I don’t need it. If I could have physically beat people, I would have. Instead my brain turned off and I became a complete emotional mess.
I’m still a little embarrassed about the whole thing, but I’m pretty sure that I made it very clear that you don’t fuck with the E-Lo.
The best conversation of the weekend (with a 10 year old female relative of mine):
10 year old: I can’t believe Rosie had four puppies! And she’s so little!
Me: I know. But you should have seen her before. She looked like a little ball with legs. She was huge!
10 year old: SHE was??? Look at you! Look at your belly!!! And you know what else? Your butt is huge too!
Me: sigh. Yeah, I know.
10 year old: But don’t worry, once you have your baby you’ll shrink down and you’ll be pretty again.
Kids always tell the truth. That’s why they say “kids are cruel.” Of course, I don’t know what my uncles excuse was when he told me that it looked like I’d have my kid sooner than November since I was getting so fat.
I think my nervous breakdown was warranted. Only 9 more weeks left.