Questionably Appropriate Tales from Wacky-Hormone-Land

The old header on my blog…via Baby Gaga

Pregnancy makes us women crazy. We do weird and inexplicable things when we’re pregnant, things that don’t even make sense to us.

Last night, I decided that 4:16 a.m. was a perfectly reasonable time to wake my husband up for some boot knockin’. He didn’t object, obviously, but he did seem a bit confused when I immediately broke into hysterical sobs afterward.

“Hey”, he asked in his gentlest navigating-a-hormonal-minefield voice, “what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“N-n-n-othing’s wrong“, I sobbed, “I just had a really b-b-b-ad dream!” (shudder, heave, sob, snort)

“What happened?” the Ogre asked while stroking my hair.

“The army shot you…but that wasn’t the bad p-p-part!” I wailed.

He tried really hard to stifle a laugh before saying, “so if the army shooting me wasn’t the bad part, what was?”

“The bad part,” I managed to choke out after a fresh round of hysteria, “was that you were cheating on me with an eighteen-year-old blond, and you took our whole family to meet her, and you kept insisting that you weren’t cheating with her but of course you were because she had you wearing Hawaiian shirts!”

The Ogre burst into laughter at that point because, well, who wouldn’t? I grumpily insisted that it “wasn’t funny”, but he said, “oh, come on, of course it’s funny.”

My sobbing finally subsided and I grudgingly admitted, “I guess it’s a little funny now, but it wasn’t funny when I was forced to watch you prance around in a green Hawaiian shirt.”