Not My Finest Moment

I keep reading through the list of first trimester symptoms, checking some off (hunger: CHECK DOUBLE CHECK) and scratching out some others (vomiting: not yet). One of the symptoms I see mentioned time and again is mood swings or irritability. You know, like PMS, cause why not? You were missing it right?? Now that you’re pregnant you might have a nine-month pass from the actual bleeding part, but your body’s pretty sure you still want all the symptoms. For nostalgia. And shit.

Anyway, where was I… ah yes, mood swings and irritability. Over the past nine weeks, I had been scratching that off my list. True, I had the occasional moment of overblown temper (a couple of weeks ago, I was serving a very late dinner and, if looks could kill, would be in jail for murder after Luffy told me to bring him the extra veggies by adding them to my plate – I chalked it up to The Hunger when he called me on my ridiculousness), but no extended bought of moodiness or irritability. No crying jags or rage-induced silent treatments.

You see where this is going, don’t you?

Luffy’s been out of town since Monday and I’m not sure if it’s the lack of someone to talk to in the evenings (read: someone who is sympathetic and always willing to give me hugs), or the weather, or just the fact that I’m nine weeks pregnant, but irritability has reared it’s ugly head.

Last night, Jasmine started meowing at me as soon as I walked in the door. Luffy usually gives her a lunchtime snack, so of course she decided that OH NOES – NO SNACK TODAY – MAYDAY MAYDAY – AM IN GRAVE DANGER OF WASTING AWAY – and vocalized her many, many woes. She’s usually pretty good about not asking (read: pestering) us for dinner until within a half hour or so of her actual dinner time. Except for yesterday. 6:30 was clearly the new dinner time in this fatherless regime. If she could have texted him, I’m sure it would have read: HALP HALP SEND FOOD AND CHEEK SCRITCHES.

For an hour and a half she followed me from room to room to room. When I was changing out of my work clothes, she was circling my legs. When I was peeing, she had her paws on my knees, meowing at my face. When I was eating a snack, she was totes judging me and also pawing at the counter. When I settled in for a little TV, she sat on my armrest and yowled directly into my ear. When that didn’t do the trick, she walked across my lap – back and forth and back and forth. Cat butt and cat butt and cat butt and cat butt. She gets even more points for her expertise in annoying me by her inadvertent skills (though ultimately very effective and I’m sure she’s pleased with herself) at fast forwarding Hulu. (The triggers on the PS4 controller are uber sensitive and she just needs to nudge the controller to get it to start fast forwarding or rewinding.) Grawr and smash and etc.

Finally, I gave in and fed her (but not before I went and got myself dinner – bad kitty mommy!). But do you think that pleased her? No. It did not. The little spitfire had a ton of energy all of a sudden and bounded across the house, knocking over crap and biting my head (lovingly, I feel sure). She got up in front of the TV and pawed at it until I finally got up to get her down. (She’s seriously like a toddler in this regard. She knows she’s not supposed to do this and she knows I’m watching her. If I make a move to get up, but don’t actually get up, she keeps on pawing. It’s not until I fully stand up and take one little step towards her that she finally stops. It’s a lovely game.)

So did I keep my cool during all of this? Absolutely not. Now, before you get concerned for poor Jas, I never resorted to violence or shouting. But I VERY FIRMLY told her that she was annoying the crap out of me and she had better knock it off. It worked as well as you can imagine. I told her this morning that she’s lucky her father’s coming back today.

So irritability: check!

Then, this morning, after putting away a very hearty breakfast (see: The Hunger), I walked into the bathroom to finish getting ready for work. I saw my (naked) self in the mirror and nearly burst into tears. I felt so ugly and thick. Not pregnant. Fat. My reflected midsection looked remarkably similar to uncooked pizza dough and even my back (read: love handles, which I haven’t had in years, mind you) suddenly seemed to have extra padding. I could see my face redden in preparation for the tears that were sure to come. Instead, I shook my head and then got dressed so I wouldn’t have to look at myself.

(Well that took a turn for the depressing….)

I feel better now, just FYI. I reminded myself that I look the same when I’m clothed so it can’t be all that bad. True, I’ve unbuttoned my pants, but that’s mainly for comfort. I still can button them, is the point. Breathe.

So …. mood swings: check!

In the grand scheme of things though, at least these are coming now and not three or four weeks ago. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel first trimester. Just got to make it there without flaying my cat. Or husband. Or self. Definitely one of those.

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