Betsy BaileyNo gravy! I am SO foul... Honestly, I don't know how anyone can stand to be around me sometimes. Lately, I...
Betsy Bailey

No gravy!
I am SO foul...

Honestly, I don't know how anyone can stand to be around me sometimes. Lately, I find myself behaving in the most reactive and ghastly of fashions. Yesterday, for example, I exploded at Tony over the most trivial of mistakes (without asking or thinking first, he dumped a whole cup of cold milk into the gravy I was trying to make for dinner, resulting in an inedible lumpy paste... blech).

Normally, I would have shrugged and said, "well then, no gravy." Okay, I probably would have gotten on his case a little bit. But last night, I went after him screeching like a fishwife, threw the pan in the sink and stomped off to my room yelling that dinner was done and they could eat, I -- Queen of the Shrews -- didn't want anything. And I threw in a curse word or two for good measure.


It was the kind of episode I remember having in adolescence (minus the profanity) when my emotions had control over me instead of the other way around. Within moments of my outburst I was thinking about how hungry and irrational I was. Thankfully, I do have enough maturity now to swallow my pride without any qualms, apologize and go eat my dinner :-). When I was 13, I would have cut off my nose to spite my face and gone hungry that night.

This hormonal hell really should not be a surprise to me. I was just this bad during my pregnancies with Bailey and Hannah Mac. It's just that I forgot what a prize I am when I'm pregnant. (Tony had not forgotten. Now I realize why he grimaced last year when I told him I'd like to have one more baby! He's really been a saint through this, bless him.)

Who am I?!
And I'm not just railing against my husband, I am crabby in general. I rail at the television, at my computer. I pout. I have lost any capacity for tolerance and am put out by the slightest inconveniences. Bah! I don't like this me at all!

And, of course, this short-temperedness has had an effect on my interactions with my kids. They are seeing me at my worst rather more than I care for them to see. Hopefully they will be forgiving (or forgetful) about this temporary Mean Mommy attitude. Not that I'm any kind of sainted parent even without the benefit of raging hormones, but I'm definitely not this bad. There are moments when I don't even recognize myself. Moments when I'm standing outside -- figuratively speaking -- of this loopy woman, shaking my head and thinking, "Can't you get a grip, lady?!"

Lucky for me, my children are young. It is my hope that their memories of my temper are buried under all that hormone-induced mama-goddess-like nurturing that often happens to postpartum nursing moms.

Really, though, I need that prolactin NOW!

In the meantime, there are peaks and valleys. Yesterday was a very deep valley; today, I am in the opposite frame of mind. Even-tempered and patient, I can feel my energy returning (I love you, second trimester) and I'm on an emotional high. Part of this is influenced by the simply gorgeous weather which means open windows and gentle breezes. I can taste autumn and it is my favorite time of year.

Taking advantage of this rare spurt of hormonal cooperation, I also purged and organized my desk, my business accounts and my underwear and sock drawers, which makes me a very happy girl. The fact that I don't have a headache, food sounds good, and I can swallow my prenatal vitamin without gagging is just the, um,


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