How does she know? Why does she always pick Sunday nights for Super Extreme Freakouts? Do all babies of working moms have this innate sense of mommy’s need for clarity on Re-Entry to Workforce Day?
We were awake, in tears (yep, both of us) from 10 p.m. until 1:30 a.m. I still have no idea what the hell was wrong with her but my tears were from the crazed, terrified confusion, very brand-new-mama-esque, of not knowing what to do to help my tiny screaming creature who clearly needed something but couldn’t tell me what. (Except to sign more! more! but she signs that roughly 1,234,890 times a minute.) Whatever the demon was that had her, it was exorcized spontaneously- finally- and we crashed hard.
My lifestyle sucks. Bu and I are having a meeting to discuss time management, budget, chores, etc. I can’t be exhausted anymore. Must fix this. I do think that if I clear away the hormonal hysteria* and my all-or-nothing attitude that we can arrange our world in a saner way. If we can’t then I’m going to sell the baby or the husband to the gypsies. Or eBay maybe.
*I feel anti-feminist** to talk about my insanity during my cycle. I am seriously a different person, though. It sucks. I’m thinking about getting back on some hormonal birth control. I read about some herbal therapy though… but it doesn’t kill two birds. The idea of another baby is all cute for 10 seconds and then I think I’d jump off a bridge. I’d make sure the gypsies found a good home for Bu & the Boue first, of course.
**Because I’m an insane overthinker and debate the intricacies and ramifications of fucking everything, including a deceptively simple blogpost about being tired and cranky during my period. Because I’m that effing crazy.