Week 17 was interesting for me. Not only was it the week of Christmas, but it was also a week of pure hormone insanity. Way back when when I used to get my period (ah, but a distant memory) and the lovely PMS symptoms to go along with it, I would once in a while get moody.
Before last week, apparently I didn’t really quite know the true meaning of full-blown hormonal moodiness. And poor Scott, neither did he, ’til this crazy woman who looked just like me took my place on the couch and freaked out. I swear. It wasn’t me.
Thursday evening, I casually mentioned that we haven’t talked about what our options are after my 12 weeks of unpaid maternity leave are up (gee thanks, corporate America). Is it even a remote possibility for me to stay home for good? With a mortgage…probably not. How hard is it going to be to hand over a 3 month old just to go and sit in a cubicle all day? And hooking my boobs up to a breast pump in a private office at work every few hours? Gee, that sounds like a freaking blast, doesn’t it? Do we look for a nanny? Is daycare worth the price vs. me working full-time to pay for it? Are any of our family members going to be willing to watch the baby during the week while we’re both gone? And then the tears started. And they wouldn’t stop. And poor Scott looked like he got hit by a truck because he totally didn’t see this one coming. And in my mind everything he said to me was the wrong thing to say. So I cried and whined like it was all his fault that there were so many unanswered questions. And just as quickly as hormonal me turned on, hormonal me vanished. I finished watching Millionaire Matchmaker and I wondered who this person was that came over and bitched at my husband about childcare, and then disappeared. I’ve never met that woman in my life. She was kinda nutzo.
And the next day, wouldn’t you know it, the bitch came back. Poor Scott took an innocent trip to the grocery store and innocently bought some brie. And as soon as he mentioned the cheese, I lost it. “I can’t eat brie,” turned into, “enjoy your brie and wash it down with your beer, another thing I can’t have!” which naturally swung over to, “we don’t do anything anymore except sit in front of the tv, I want to go out sometimes.” I was ridiculous. Tears, whining, frustration, and the most ridiculous part of it all is that I seriously could care less if Scott eats brie. I couldn’t even tell you what brie tastes like. And beer? Meh, I’d rather have a glass of wine if I could have anything at the moment. Going out and doing something on weekends? I’d love it but I’d first have to force myself out of my pajamas that always win in the debate of, “should I go to the store/my parents’ house/buy a new pair of cute boots?”
I ended up walking out of the room, cooling off, then feeling so awfully guilty for crying to Scott about things that really don’t matter when he’s been nothing but fantastic throughout this whole pregnancy. And so I cried some more because of the guilt. And I went back and laid on the couch next to him bawling my eyes out and apologizing for how mean I was and how crazy I felt for acting like that. Then I went and cried for a few more hours in bed for no good reason. And you know what? Scott took it all in stride because he’s awesome like that.
And to top it all off, this was on Christmas Eve. That night we went to my parents’ house to celebrate Christmas and I instantly felt 1000 times more normal as soon as I strapped on my Santa hat and started handing out presents. Pure insanity, I tells ya, and not a tear has been shed since last Friday.
Christmas was awesome. I fully expected to be getting lots of baby stuff but surprisingly, one of my sisters got us some really cute onesies, my father-in law and hmmmm, would she be my step-mother-in-law? got us the cutest Gund polar bear, and other than that, nothing specifically for baby. I did however get my first maternity clothes!! Funny, it took other people buying them for me to get me to wear clothes that actually fit me now: some new cute shirts, and a pair of maternity jeans. Sad face though, since I’m all leg – 5’3″ with a 33-34″ inseam – the jeans were 3 inches too short, but happy face, I went straight home and ordered 2 pairs online of long length maternity full panel jeans: these and these. And you know, it was about damn time.
Seriously, you have no idea.
The frugal Martha Stewart in me actually rigged something up to make my normal jeans fit…I cut the hooks and eyes off an old bra, sewed the hooks onto my jeans waistband, sewed the eyes onto the button-hole side of a waistband I cut off of an old pair of jeans, hooked the 2 waistbands together then buttoned the new button-hole to the old button. It bought me a few inches but was getting ridiculously uncomfortable and really bumpy under fitted shirts. Pregnant lady hiking up her jeans up her butt ’til they cover the muffin top = not so pretty. Two pairs of maternity jeans on the way? Pure awesomeness provided they fit. The size guide said to order your pre-pregnancy size, and while I’m on the larger end of a small for them, I went with the small for both so we shall see.
What is pretty? Only the greatest present I got from Amy…
Cravings this week: meat, lots and lots of meat….as in big juicy burgers well done. Forgive me, I’m writing this a week later and all I honestly remember wanting was a big ol hunk of meat.
17 week belly shot:
No, sorry Hazy, momma farted.
For past weeks, visit My Pregnancy Calendar
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