Sometimes, and this is natural since I am pregnant, my hormones take over and I become uncontrollably out of control. I will cry or laugh inconsolably, for no apparent reason. I will get in moods where I want to clean the entire house and stock up on vegetable oil (just in case) and then I will get in moods where getting up off the couch is just too much to ask for.
Other times I get very, very grumpy. Part of this is hormones, I'm sure. There are more contributing factors, I'm sure.
For example, I was rather grumpy today...and I'm ashamed to say that I didn't control it, even though it wasn't a hormonal rampage, and I knew it.
My "contributing factors" (aka: list of complaints) this morning were: sore back, sore rump, lack of sleep, 5 trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night (read: lack of sleep), someone (not me) stealing all of the blankets, too many painful contractions first thing in the morning, hunger, and having to go to work.
Feeling vengeful, I was able to track down the root cause for all of my little complaints...I mean, "factors." The unfortunate one: Andrew.
So I was accidentally purposefully grumpy at him. After all, if I wasn't pregnant then my back wouldn't hurt, my rump wouldn't hurt, I would not have made 5 trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I wouldn't have been as hungry, and these silly contractions, only divided by a squirming baby--well...they just wouldn't be there, would they?
Now, it would be silly to blame Andrew for the whole pregnancy because, let's face it: it takes two...And I know that. However, he did hog the blankets last night, so I felt somehow that my grumpiness was fully justified.
I was tired and sore and chose to be grumpy. It was going to take too much energy to feel happy about today. I didn't even attempt to get out of bed until 8:15 because I had fumed about Andrew in my head for so long that I knew if I crossed his path, he was doomed.
We're supposed to leave at 8:30. We left at 8:40.
I was right on time for work. Andrew was 2 minutes late for class.
I felt bad that I had been grumpy, and by choice at that! Luckily, I don't think that I actually did anything mean to Andrew...I don't think I called him any names or threw my pillow at him or dumped water over his head. I was just...a little terse towards him.
For example (okay, this is actually from last night--I was grumpy then, too, and even went to bed early):
Andrew: Will you turn on the hard drive for me?
Me: *heavy sigh*
Andrew: *mock heavy sigh*
Me: *Humph* It's just that I don't want to stand up and then sit back down because I'm going to stand up in like 5 minutes anyway when I'm done eating dinner.
[see, because I'm pregnant, I spend like 20 more minutes eating dinner than he does because I eat like 20 times more.]
Andrew: Well, I don't want to stand up either.
Me, sing-songly: Do you want to complain about that again before or after the baby is born?
He turned on the hard drive himself.
Anyway, I spent my whole morning reflecting on how sweet my husband really has been to me. He comes to my every beck and call. Nay, he comes to my every whimper.
I felt bad that I treated him so badly. I should have turned on the hard drive for him. I should have not been grumpy. I should have gotten out of bed on time.
Alas, all I could do was apologize. And so I did. Life is full of regrets, I suppose...not that I regret apologizing, just that I regret having done something that needed apologizing for (yet again).
I would promise to never be grumpy again, but I haven't actually gone into labor yet, so I think I'll hold off on that promise. Plus, as Mary Poppins is known to have said, "it's a pie crust promise. Easily made, easily broken." I suppose I'm better off promising to try to not be grumpy tomorrow...and then the next day...and the next--even if my back hurts and my husband steals the covers.