Pregnancy and I don't always get along. The fact that I am doing this for a 3rd time is actually sort of a miracle. Ya know, other than that "it's worth it in the end" crap. Trust me, I love my children more than anything in the world but I would be lying if I said I loved every minute of getting them here. I have my moments where I realize how amazing and beautiful it all is, but those moments, especially early on, are clouded by nausea and vomiting and uncontrollable mood swings. And according to a lot of the people around me I'm actually not that bad of a pregnant woman. But when I'm bad, I really, really bad.
For instance, last week we made homemade pizza for dinner. I had rolled my crust really thin and as I went to put it in the oven the back half slid off the pizza stone and down into the bottom of the oven. I would normally be annoyed, mostly with myself, but I would huff a little and pick the pizza back off and put it on the stone. Yeah, normal waved bye-bye about 9 weeks ago. Instead of reacted in an understandable manner, I flipped.my.shit. After I screamed at the pizza, I screamed at the oven. Then of course I cursed our home because clearly it was at fault. I was outraged that my dinner was partially damaged. When I finally got everything under control, I kicked the oven door closed. I showed her who was boss, damnit. Charming Husband, who had the pleasure of witnessing this rampage, stared at me like I had 2 heads to which I gently responded, "quit fucking looking at me like that!!!" I'm pretty sure when I left the room he and Bug exchanged, "wow Mom is crazy" looks.
The funny thing, and by funny I mean outrageous, is that the whole time I was yelling, I knew I was being completely ridiculous. I knew that I was completely irrational but I just couldn't stop. I kept telling myself, "Shut-up you psychopath! It's just pizza! And it isn't like you can eat the whole thing anyway!" Seriously, why couldn't I stop? Each pregnancy brings a new phenomena that I can't seem to control. I'm pretty sure this is God's way of telling me I probably shouldn't have anymore kids, because I am getting progressively worse each time. Ok, God, I get the point. You can stop proving it.