Girl, You Crazy...

This weekend was a whirlwind of food, cleaning, baking, arguing and pretty much finding ways to be as difficult as possible to punish my poor wonderful loving husband for NO APPARENT REASON WHAT-SO-EVER.

When I'm yelling/screaming/crying/bitching it all seems so totally rashional and just. Ooh the agony! Ooh the sky must be falling! But in the immediate 30 seconds after I've calmed the fuck down I feel like a total donkey's ass, partly because my husband will sit and stare at me in sheer terror and disbelief (I married this woman?), partly because I am unsure of what exactly swooped down from the sky (or crawled up from hell below) and took over my mind and body for those few angry moments, and it is scary.

I know the cause is simple: pregnancy hormones. And the solution is even more simple: calm the hell down. Breathe. Be happy! And I am, I really am, I PROMISE. I just... have trouble showing it, I guess.

How can I possibly be expected to show that I'm happy when there are McDonald's monopoly game pieces on the bedroom floor!? Or when there are beer caps on the living room end table? Or when there are dried drops of urine on the toilet seat rim and half-empty cups of kool-aid on the bedroom nightstand?

Ok, does the fact that I said 'half-empty' cups rather than 'half-full' mean anything?

Bite me.