Friday, July 10, 2009

[insert misc four-letter word here]

Okay, most everyone will tell you, that aside from a few tired days where I had a short fuse due to sleepiness, I've been fairly okay to deal with. No outbursts, no crying fits, no douchiness overall.

Yesterday, that came to a screeching halt.

My day overall was lame. It started with a large pile of cat vomit (crabby factor= 2). I worked, got sucked into projects that aren't mine (crabby factor=3), and luckily got to leave a little early so I could bring the Black Beauty (my trusty CR-V) in for an oil change. However, leaving early also meant being on the light rail with everyone that was at the Twins game. These aren't your average transit customers - these are idiots that don't know how to use mass transit times 1,540. All of us, crammed into a train, me protecting my tummy, standing next to a TOTAL booze hound. (Crabby factor now at a 5, trying to bring 'er back to a 1 since I'm done with work for the day.)

I get home only to encounter THREE MORE PILES OF CAT BARF. (Crabbies now to an 8.) I quickly clean them up and hop in my car only to deal with rush hour traffic. (Crabbies holding around a 9.) Oil change complete, I drive home hoping the hubs is back from the game. (He was lucky enough to skip out of work for the afternoon and go. And also drink all day.). And there's another pile of barf. And then another. That brings the barf total to SIX BARF CLEAN UPS. I'm at a full blown 10 on the crabby scale and the hubs is not home and not answering his phone. At this point, I'm screaming at the cats and any inanimate object that gets in my way. I'm near tears and cannot even attempt to calm myself down. We had planned on going to Lowes that evening to get another estimate for new doors for our house, and I was just not feeling it anymore. The hubs finally gets home, and I am SO MAD at this point that I'm thinking if I stabbed him, he probably wouldn't press charges and I would feel SO MUCH BETTER. So, instead of inflicting bodily harm on him, I decide to go to the store and buy bread. I came home, ate a sammich and ironed shirts just so I could be by myself...because I knew if I sat in the same room as the hubs I would just burst into tears. Later I went to bed and had bizzare dreams all night and woke up feeling as though I'd been hit by a bus.

Now. I know that I have been able to deal with these kinds of things before without allowing them to affect my mood. However, everything combined with clearly elevated hormones made me a mad woman yesterday. I feel bad for being crabby with the hubs, but I honestly couldn't help it, and part of me feels like he deserves to feel my wrath since he didn't have an infant using his cervix as a trampoline yesterday.

I'm less crabby today, but still feel like if there were another chain of events like yesterday I would more than likely grab the nearest object and bludgeon someone with it.

Deep breaths.


  1. It's just cruel that the laws of biology and growing humans require one go through all this without the aid of a drink every now and then, but the dad not only doesn't have to go through any pain but can also drink to his heart's content.

    I'm petitioning God for a rule change here.

  2. True that. I mean, I agree that the dads also need booze to deal with the occasional spaz...but if booze were legit for the ladies, maybe our crazies wouldn't last for periods of 8 hours or more.

    And trust me, I'm going to make sure the hubs is well aware of the pain I'm in when I'm in it. :)

  3. I'm sorry you had an awful day but your blog about it was nothing short of extremely clever and hilarious! When I got to the part of your baby using your cervix as a trampoline, I died. Can I just say as someone who is only a week behind you in pregnancy, WORD?!

    Love your blog.