Crazy, But That's How It Goes....

The first thing I usually do when I wake up these days (other than the unmentionable necessaries) is to turn on the old-fashioned radio on the bathroom counter and try to drown out any unladylike morning noises. A pregnant body can be bursting with such surprises at dawn.  Ahem.

As per my ritual this morning, I flicked the volume knob up to a audible level and hopped in the shower, paying little mind to what variety of noise issued from the little wooden box.  I relaxed and let my ears fill with shampoo.

And then Tom FM betrayed me. 

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Ozzy Ozbourne screeched from the quaint antique speakers.

Crazy Train.  Before 6 a.m..  Mother. Of. Pearl.

If Mini had already been born, she would've jumped outta her bassinet.

Fortunately, she's fairly well soundproofed for now.  I, however, was not immune.  If you could have seen me in the shower at that precise moment (with black censorship bars intact, of course), you would've thought I looked an awful lot like Bill the Cat.

 

 

This kind of reaction is becoming somewhat of the norm.

 

Guess you could say I'm a little unhinged these days.

 

Maybe it's a first time parent thing.  Things that never concerned me before have become HUGE FREAKING DEALS.  For example, should I start putting my heavy dishes on the top shelf instead of the bottom, or should I just put leave them on the bottom shelf so they won't have as far to fall if they do get bopped? And should I go ahead and start using baby detergent on things, just in case the baby happens to come in contact with them much later?!  OR SHOULD I START GETTING RID OF ALL OF THE CAUSTIC CLEANERS IN THE HOUSE, BECAUSE WHAT IF SHE LIKES THE TASTE OF LYSOL WITH A BLEACH CHASER?!?! 

 

nnnnnnnnaargh.

 

Along the same vein, I've noticed that I've been a lot less tolerant of people-generated noise.

 

Don't get me wrong.  Direct conversations can be delightful.  But those who talk just to see how long they can keep their jaw working without checking to make sure their brain is still in play.... they make me cry.  Literally.  Things that used to simply annoy me just shatter my nerves.  At the end of the day, my car often looks like a movie theater in the aftermath of Steel Magnolias.  Soggy lipstick-smeared tissues EVERYWHERE. 

 

These reactions may be exacerbated by sheer exhaustion.  That's very likely.  Or by the sheer annoyance of being distracted as I'm trying so very hard to corral what few brain cells I have left and direct them toward whatever deserves my attention.  I figure that the final straw that might be pushing me to the edge of tears is the double dose of hormones in play.  I can hardly laugh without bursting into tears these days, which is great for the comedian in front of me who needs validation.  Also great for the Kleenex corporation, and Maybelline.  Not so much for my professional demeanor.

 

And while I'm a strong proponent for handling anger in one of two ways -- prayer or fleeing the scene -- I find it increasingly difficult to resist the temptation to rent my maternity shirt in twain and turn into The Incredible Mulk (that's Mommy/Hulk, by the way) when someone treats me disrespectfully.

 

I think I came very close to punching a dude square in the nose on Monday.

 

Remind me that this will pass.  Encourage me to breathe when you see me turning chartreuse.  

 

And pray for the well-being of the noses of those who surround me.

 

NAAAAAARGHIWILLEATYOURPANTS!!!!!!!