Thursday, July 3, 2008

Something wicked this way comes

So,
While you breastfeed for the first 6 months you are apparently using one of the most effective birth control methods at just a 2% failure rate-lower than that of using condoms. Your monthly menses are also usually absent-hence the birth control. For this to be effective though, you have to make a point of breastfeeding baby at least every three hours around the clock. According to my public health nurse, once baby starts "sleeping through the night" The hormones keeping things kosher will drop during that time, and soon enough you'll be trolling the feminine products aisle at the 24 hour drug store.

Yeah...so baby boy had been consistently sleeping more than 5 hours at a stretch for months now. And no sign of the witch. Until 2 nights ago. When my head started spinning around à la exorcist.

Hubby: "hi honey I'm home!"
Me: "grunt, snicker, eye roll." return eyes to computer screen.
Hubby: "What would you like for dinner? I'll make you something?"
Me: " JESUS! LEAVE ME ALONE. I DON'T WANT ANY DINNER! I DON'T CARE! I DON'T CARE IF I'M STARVING-I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT! GET YOUR OWN DINNER AND LEAVE ME OUT OF IT! CAN'T YOU JUST TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF FOR ONCE AND NOT BOTHER ME FOR TWO SECONDS? ALL DAY LONG I GIVE AND GIVE AND FOR JUST A FEW MINUTES I'D LIKE TO EMAIL IN FRIGGIN' PEACE!!!
Hubby: "ok."

Silence.

Hubby: extending bag of chips "Would you like a chip, honey?"

Not silence.

Me: (Sobbing hysterically, jabbing my finger pointedly at him, standing up, sitting down, blowing my nose, getting angry again, yelling, walking away, coming back at him) "YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND ME!"

Hmmmm, ok there-teenage angst much? The night wrapped up with me turning my back on him as he cuddled me in bed and basically bringing up every single issue/concern/ complaint I've ever had since we've been together and molding it into one big, emotional purge. The best part is that I'd often look at him and say a variance of "I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. Or what this is about. I'm done". And I really meant it, too. But that didn't mean everything was hunky dory and I was ready to do sexy times, or start telling knock-knock jokes or something. I still was in a mood-just not necessarily one that was directed toward him. But unfortch, when you live in a one bedroom + den condo, and baby owns the den, there isn't anywhere else to go. To be alone. That's why I want to move (yet another post on that sometime). Space to slam doors all dramatically, and be alone, and listen to Whitney Huston, and cry. I think I even uttered the words many women consider a sin...for fear of allowing men some kind of knowing power to also use these words (which they MUST NEVER DO for fear of their lives!) "Maybe I'm PMS'ing or something!". Hubby said no, it wasn't that and I was right, and everything would be ok. What a good man :)

The funniest part is that it would be somewhat of a relief to have this blissful period free time over with. The waiting is killing me...kinda reminds me somewhat of the waiting for it every month when you want it to be late so you can pee on a damn stick. 9 or 10 months of that are not easy to forget. Also, I'm not interested in having to tie my sweatshirt around my waist anymore. Especially not when I need said sweatshirt to shield my boobs from men who make sexy noises at breastfeeding women.

Yup. By the pricking of my thumbs, I'm going to need some Midol.
And a sappy chick flick.
And some chocolate.
And that aforementioned bag of chips.
Stat.

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