As Boyz 2 Men would say, I’ll make love to you. Oh wait, wrong song.
Another thing they might say is that I’ve just about come to the end of the road with this whole breastfeeding thing. I’m down to two or three times a day and I always have to supplement with a bottle anyway because who knows what, if anything, is actually coming out of those things. And as much as I like having things suck on my nipples willy nilly it’s time to bring this train into the station.
Which means my hormones are going bat shit crazy again.
From taking enough fertility drugs to require the use of Nair on my back to being pregnant to suddenly not being pregnant to breastfeeding to not breastfeeding (repeat), hormones have become a standard part of the apology speech I deliver to Nick on an hourly basis.
They’ve been my scapegoat for over two years and I don’t know what I’m going to do once I can only justify titanic sized mood swings once a month. I’m going to have to save up all the crazy stuff that I want to do or say and blow it all in a very well timed 48 hour period.
The past few weeks have been really bad, though. I was recently shopping at The Limited and started crying at the song Frosty the Snowman that was playing on the overhead speakers. The sun WAS hot that day! Poor snowman! He was a trooper ’til the end, that Frosty.
Then a few days ago I started crying in the grocery store because someday Ellie won’t be able to fit in the front of the cart.
And then… THEN… some bitch had the audacity to post a video on her Facebook page of a montage of military men and women’s family homecomings. I was crying before I even hit play and about seven seconds in a group of neighborhood farel cats had gathered around my front window to try to peek in and get a look at the new guy.
Seriously people – what am I going to do once I have nothing to blame for my uncontrollable sobbing? And what about the bitchiness? Without hormones I’ll just be a regular ole bitch!
I should probably just get pregnant again.