Monday moaning…

Chernobyl ain’t got nothin’ on me.

I lost it last night. I had refilled the humidifier in Bug’s room and was putting it back together. I could hear water chugging out of it. I thought: that’s strange, it wasn’t empty. But it was the same sound it makes while it’s filling the base if you run it completely down. Then I noticed the water pooling on Bug’s dresser. It probably lost ½ gallon of water before I picked it up to see what was going on enabling the rest of the water to go EVERYWHERE! It took four… FOUR giant bath sheets to soak up all that water.

Kev helped me pick it up. I thought he was annoyed with me…. hell I would have been the way I was ranting about. I started crying… sometimes I’m such a girl! I couldn’t stop or explain why I was crying. My poor husband must think I’m a nutjob. I really think hormones fuck with me on a monthly basis. I’m sure you can imagine how lame it must sound explaining off a crying spell to PMS. Because God forbid you suggest it’s PMS… I’d bite your head off, chew it up and spit it back in the hole your head just to come off of. But apparently it’s perfectly acceptable for me to use that excuse. WTF.


Them bad boys are loose.

The wire broke in my best nursing bra. There isn’t another feeling quite like being poked in arm pit with a fork. So I’ve been wearing the flimsy ones… they can hardly contain these bad boys, so you know there is no supporting them. It’s just not pretty. Every step I take feels like an experiment in physics.


You know sometimes this baby thing just isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes I feel like I have lost my whole identity (along with all of my free time). Now before you start telling what a crap person I am, please remember: this is my blog and I can write what ever the hell I feel like. And today I feel like a Magic 8 Ball of emotions. I was going to say emotional blender, but I think I used that before.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my son. But being ‘needed’ 24-7 is hard work. I try to give myself things to do that are not baby related (when I can get the time) but then I miss him and feel guilty about not being with him. Emotional roller coaster is putting it mildly.

Then my brain steps in and tries to make some logic out of all of this… ugly… just ugly.

“Will I have a good day?” shake 8-ball vigorously.

“Cry hysterically”

“Will I be rich some day?” shake 8-ball vigorously.

“Bite off the person’s head standing closest to you.”

“Will I have some free time this week?” shake 8-ball vigorously.

“Bitch, you crazy?”

“Will I feel well rested when I wake up in the morning?” shake 8-ball vigorously.

“Bitch, you crazy?”

“Does my husband still love me?” shake 8-ball vigorously.

“Giggle inappropriately.”

This must be why they invented Margaritas. Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting



  1. Annika Said:

    I love your Magic 8-Ball analogy. It is spot-on.


  2. Marty52 Said:

    …and Jack Daniels. ;0)

  3. Jenn Said:

    I worry about this. When I think about having a baby I worry about not having time to myself and being needed all the time. So with that said, I thank you for blogging about this because it is real and it is good to know other women have thought this/gone through it/etc.


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