Pregnancy insanity

This time last year I was rocking this gut:

I was also sporting some majorly out of control hormones. Imagine your moody craziness when you were a teenager or when you have PMS, then multiply it by infinity. That's what pregnancy does to you. Makes you totally insane. Like, you can't even believe the crap you did afterwards.

Unfortunately for David, he suffers the brunt of my hormonal bloodshed. Its partly a proximity thing, like he's the closest one so he gets caught in no man's land most frequently. But mostly its a You did this to me so now you're gonna pay! thing.

When I was pregnant with Alana, my sister was also pregnant. My nephew was born 3 weeks after Alana. So I had someone who was equally hot and pregnant who understood. This took some of the pressure off of David having to listen to my pregnancy woes. (His worst story from my pregancy is a killer hangnail, but that's a story for another day).

That didn't completely stop me from being a crazy pregnant woman. I worked full time, plus cooked all our meals. So if I went to the trouble of cooking a meal, he had better eat it, and he had better like it.

It was probably September, but I was craving beef stew. So in the morning before work I assembled my ingredients in the crockpot so I could feast when I got home. David knew that I was cooking dinner. I always cooked dinner. But he brought home something from Dairy Queen.

First mistake: he didn't bring anything for me. Second mistake: ice cream will most definitely ruin his appetite for the meal that I had slaved (okay, spent like 20 minutes on) over. Blame it on my craziness, or my hunger, but I was so pissed off. Even though it was a Moo-Latte, which is technically a drink.

So I did the only rational thing I could think of, I threw away the crockpot, with my dinner still inside it. I wasn't so crazy as to just throw it all over the place and make a huge mess, just crazy enough to be mad over a stupid drink. Mad enough to throw away my crockpot containing my dinner.

The craziest part of me throwing it away was that I still wanted to eat the food inside of it. So I gently placed the entire crockpot, lid on, inside the trash can. This way, I could still go back and eat the stew after I'd made my point.

I ended up eating it much later, after David had apoligized for something that wasn't really his fault.

When I was pregnant with Ava I'd say my hormones weren't any better or worse than with Alana. They were about the same. I didn't have as many notorious pregnant craziness moments, but I did have one notable one.

After one of my dr visits in Tucson, we went to Eegee's. I kind of sometimes hate Eegee's, so going there is a compromise for me. Which meant I was already kind of grouchy. Plus it was July, I was pregnant and I was hot.

Alana and I sat down at the table. They only have booths at that location, whicn annoys me. Who wants to shove their pregnant belly between a booth back and a table?

I had a free cup of water, since I don't drink soda. Since it was free, it didn't come with a lid. Alana was thirsty, so she grabbed my drink. Then she spilled it all over, getting freezing cold ice water all over my lap and the front of my shirt. I looked like my water had broken.

David came to sit at the table with our tray of food. When he saw the giant puddle of water I was sitting in, it almost looked like he cracked a tiny little hint of a smile. It was probably my imagination, but I was still mad. When he sat down, with a pile of napkins to clean up Lake Eegee, I was fuming. So once again, I took the high road. I poured the rest of the water on my husband.

He was definitely mad. Who could blame him? I had just thrown ice water on him for no reason. Alana was the one who had spilled it in the first place, but I was punishing him. And its not like he could retaliate and throw water back at me. I was the pregnant one. What kind of jerk throws water on a pregnant lady?

So we ate the rest of our publicly humiliating meal mad, with wet clothes. I was too mad to eat, so I just sat there pissed off. Then we had to stop at McDonalds on the way home to get me some food, since I didn't eat my other meal.

I will never live down the infamous "crockpot" incident. But who knows how crazy I'll get next time?