Until I got pregnant, that is.
Last Thursday I had an absolutely wonderful day. Everything was going my way...I was knocking tasks out like nobodies business...and then...well, then the 5:00 hour chimed and I turned into a hormonal lunatic. All of a sudden the world was going to end with a load of laundry still left undone and a sink full of dishes. In all of my craziness, I couldn't imagine how the next life (aliens, maybe?) were going to walk into my house and see how nasty it was as the world came to screeching halt. Seriously. That is what went through my brain. It took me about 3 hours of contemplating how I was going to explain to God or Peter or whoever was going to meet me at the pearly gates that I usually didn't keep such an untidy house but if there was anyway that they could keep the aliens from seeing my house - post world end - well, that would be swell.
And yes, I did have this entire conversation with myself.
And then I decided on my next best option to the world ending: I texted Troy.
It said something like this:
"I'm having a nervous breakdown. Meet me at Dairy Queen in 15 minutes."
Now, just to get things straight, I love a Blizzard just as much as the next pregnant girl. But, what made this different is that I had plans to eat a cheeseburger, fries, a Blizzard and maybe even a Coke for good measure (I haven't had a Coke in probably 5 years, by the way.) I just knew that sitting in DQ, full loaded trans-fat meal in front of me...well, that was going to make things all better.
Troy immediately texted me back and said "I'll be home in 10. Wait on me and I'll go with you."
By this point, I was already in the car ready to make my getaway. So, I just sat and waited. And waited. And waited. And within seconds of waiting, the waterworks started. I had no idea why I was crying. Was I sad that the world might end? Was I mad because my house would be a mess when the world ended? Was I upset that I was getting ready to feed our unborn child the worst meal ever? I think it was combination of all of them...by the time Troy got there I was buckled in, car running, and tears streaming down my face. I think I babbled on about the house and the work and the cat and the laundry and...well, who knows. Ask Troy - I'm sure he remembers. After a 5 minute crying session we headed to DQ where I ate the worst meal ever. Exactly as I had planned. A cheeseburger, fries, and a Blizzard...I couldn't stomach ordering the Coke. And exactly as my insides had planned, they rejected every bit of that nasty meal. Oh well, that's what I get for not eating like this on a regular basis, right?
My second meltdown was really an "almost meltdown" and happened last night. We were picnicking at Washington Park, listening to the Grapevine belt out some beach music, oldies and other fun songs when the urge to pee hit me. If there is one thing I despise about being pregnant is that I have to pee entirely too much. The organizers of the event had come over the loud speaker and announced that the coffee shop at the top of the hill had coffee, smoothies, and public restrooms! So, off to the coffee shop I go. I got stopped on my way there a couple of times, running into people I know...I think I told all of them "can't talk...must pee..."...being pregnant leaves no room for modesty. At any rate, I cross the street to the coffee shop and pop on in to hear:
"I'm sorry we're closed."
And I'm like "no, you're not. The door is unlocked. And you're still in here."
And he's all like "well, we are."
And I'm like "well, can I just go to the bathroom? I've really got to go. I'm pregnant and about to bust. And I promise I'll be quick."
And he just looks at me like one of those disapproving nuns from high school and shakes his head no.
And I just stood there..and eeked out "really?"
And he just looked at me..shaking that damn head.
I turned around, walked out of the coffee shop, and began to cry.
What was I going to do now? Pee in my pants? There wasn't a single thing open within a half mile. I then remembered that there was a port-a-potty on the other side of the park...I sucked up my tears and began the little hike back to the other side of the park...vowing that I will never ever step foot in that coffee shop again.
The port-a-potty was there. And it didn't smell quite as bad as I had imagined. And it had hand sanitizer so full-fledged meltdown was averted.
This week I promise to have zero meltdowns. Let's see if my hormones will cooperate.