Some day I'm sure we’ll laugh about this.
From what I have read, many pregnant women experience sudden, unexplained anger towards their husbands. My husband is lucky, because I haven’t been angry with him at all.
Instead I’m just angry at everyone else: the pharmacist at Walgreens (where I fear I’m no longer welcome), the shop clerk who only wanted to help me find what I was looking for, the burgundy Lincoln Town Car full of Nuns. And Heaven have pity on any poor soul who happens to mention Thanksgiving or Christmas to me: I’ll either start crying or go into a blind rage.
This must be nature’s way of forcing us to ask ourselves if we’re really ready to be a mom. Let’s face it: if I can’t control my temper when confronted with simple little things, how am I going to ever be able to handle a two-year old?
This has always been a bad time of year for me anyway, so I know it’s not just my hormones. In addition to the limited daylight, turning a year older, and facing the forced gaiety known as the Happy Holidays, a few major life changes have been known to fall on me around Thanksgiving. So even without these pregnancy hormones, it’s been quite awhile since I have looked forward to this time of year. With the pregnancy hormones, the desire to just avoid it all has been magnified. Maybe deep down, I realize I really have more to lose now, and if I could somehow avoid this time of year, nothing bad will happen.
My mother is so sweet, and she hasn’t felt well for several weeks now. She is planning to cook a big meal for just a few of us. My brother, his family, my husband and I are all the family she and my dad have nearby. For some reason, the fact that she wants to cook us a big meal, even though she doesn’t feel well, makes me really sad.
Then there is the fact that we’re all going to eat. And eat. And eat again. I already feel huge. Let’s face it - it’s hard to feel pretty when you’re wearing jeans with an elastic, adjustable waist.
My ex-brother-in-law didn’t celebrate the holidays. It had nothing to do with religion, he just felt that the holidays had gotten out of control. He made the rounds to visit everyone right before Thanksgiving, then he just followed his regular routine and kept to himself until Christmas Day, when he only ventured out to see a movie.
Each year, this idea just becomes more and more appealing.
Instead I’m just angry at everyone else: the pharmacist at Walgreens (where I fear I’m no longer welcome), the shop clerk who only wanted to help me find what I was looking for, the burgundy Lincoln Town Car full of Nuns. And Heaven have pity on any poor soul who happens to mention Thanksgiving or Christmas to me: I’ll either start crying or go into a blind rage.
This must be nature’s way of forcing us to ask ourselves if we’re really ready to be a mom. Let’s face it: if I can’t control my temper when confronted with simple little things, how am I going to ever be able to handle a two-year old?
This has always been a bad time of year for me anyway, so I know it’s not just my hormones. In addition to the limited daylight, turning a year older, and facing the forced gaiety known as the Happy Holidays, a few major life changes have been known to fall on me around Thanksgiving. So even without these pregnancy hormones, it’s been quite awhile since I have looked forward to this time of year. With the pregnancy hormones, the desire to just avoid it all has been magnified. Maybe deep down, I realize I really have more to lose now, and if I could somehow avoid this time of year, nothing bad will happen.
My mother is so sweet, and she hasn’t felt well for several weeks now. She is planning to cook a big meal for just a few of us. My brother, his family, my husband and I are all the family she and my dad have nearby. For some reason, the fact that she wants to cook us a big meal, even though she doesn’t feel well, makes me really sad.
Then there is the fact that we’re all going to eat. And eat. And eat again. I already feel huge. Let’s face it - it’s hard to feel pretty when you’re wearing jeans with an elastic, adjustable waist.
My ex-brother-in-law didn’t celebrate the holidays. It had nothing to do with religion, he just felt that the holidays had gotten out of control. He made the rounds to visit everyone right before Thanksgiving, then he just followed his regular routine and kept to himself until Christmas Day, when he only ventured out to see a movie.
Each year, this idea just becomes more and more appealing.
posted by Diva at 12:28 PM
7 comments
