Friday, August 11, 2006
When I was pregnant with Hunter I was especially irritable. Certain people and certain things seemed to rub me wrong and it wouldn't take much to send me on a rampage. My pregnancies with Noah, Denver and Caleb were much better and except for the occassional bad day, I remained pretty even-tempered. (Of course, Mark might tell you a different story.) I wish I could say the same for this pregnancy but if I did, I'd be lying. I don't remember ever being so cranky and irritable, ever, not even when I was pregnant with Hunter. There's not a day that goes by when I don't feel angry, frustrated feelings, even if most the time they're aimed at our chicken, Lucky.
It really is upsetting, because I don't consider myself an angry person. And I really hate feeling so volatile all the time. There are days I just feel like bawling my eyes out because I'm so frustrated with feeling contrary all the time. And of course, I try and be easy on myself, keeping in mind that I'm pregnant with twins and it has been an especially hot summer, but that never seems to make me feel much better. And I really do try and keep it under control because I've learned that shouting at and shaming my children only makes matters worse and the guilt I ultimately feel from losing my self-control over spilled milk (or whatever) is way worse then just feeling grumpy. But smothering all that anger and frustration is like drinking poison on a daily basis, which is probably why I feel like I need to have a "good cry" on a daily basis--to wash all those toxins out.
It could be that we've also been having a run of bad luck lately and with the pregnancy and the heat, who wouldn't be grumpy? We had a flat tire on the way to reunion, a delayed flight to reunion, our A/C has broken down twice, Mark's got several upcoming business trips, my back is killing me to the point that I feel like a crippled old lady, the doctors have all been idiots lately, record breaking heat, a "to do" list a mile long and on and on and on. We tried to pick up our new car yesterday. We drove all the way into New York, filled out all the paperwork, chased the kids around and around, only to find out they had to wait for our down payment check to clear before they could release the car, even though they called the bank who confirmed all the funds were there. So, Mark gets to go all the way back into New York in a week or so to pick up the car. And somehow I've got to find the money to pay for the sucker for the next, oh. . . ten years of our lives. As well as double the diapers and formula for the next year. And I'm totally stressing about that because at the end of the day you can only stretch a dollar bill so far. I have a million things to do before these babies come and I have the most adorable ball and chain attatched to my hip making things ever so complicated. And every time I think, "oh good I can get ahead" he wakes up or climbs the stairs or falls down and bonks his head, and then, I get nothing done. And I have all these expectations of myself and at the end of the day I just beat myself up for all the things that still remain undone.
And then, worst of all, they go and release me. Weeks before I'm hoping we're going to start practicing for the Primary Program, they release me. I just finished teaching the last song. I just started assigning parts. I was totally getting excited to start practicing with the kids and finally putting together all the hard work we've done this past year and they call me into the office and release me. And it's all I can do not to start bawling. Why now? I thought I had made it clear to the bishopric as well as the Primary Presidency that I wanted to do the Primary Program, that my being pregnant wasn't a problem and I'd be fine. We did it last year in September, and I thought we could do it again this year in September. And I don't know how many times I've mentioned this to the Primary Pres and she's said nothing at all, like maybe September wouldn't work or that they were thinking of releasing me, she just gave me the run around and then--BAM! I'm fired and I get to see none of the fruits of my labors because when they do the program, I'll be flat on my back with my belly cut open and my breasts the size of watermelons. And I'm totally bitter from the injustice of it all.
Anyway, my whole point in writing all of this is for good old posterity's sake. Some day when I look back I'll think, "What a loser. You had it so good and didn't even know it." And I'll laugh at myself and think how silly I was. And of course, when my kids call me up and complain that their wives are so dang grumpy all the time, I'll just send them a copy of this with the promise that they too will get through it and remind them how patient their father always was with me and that in the end, it's all worth it. It's definitely all worth it--every ache, every pain, every inconvenience.
posted by Shana # 1:21 PM 
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