Remember my post about nursing hormones? How in the world do I write about my current hormones, especially when I don't have nursing to blame it on.
Man...hormones. They're basically the worst.
I've been having some really great days with the girls lately. Sure, we have our screaming matches and our eye rolling (I say we because I am usually smack in the middle of the screaming and eye rolling...I say if you can't beat them...act like them), but on the whole, I have really enjoyed my time with them. All of that came to a screeching halt this morning when for no other reason but what I call demon hormones, I flipped a switch and screamed at Mya for raising her voice at me. Yeah, I know. Not my best mom moment. And after walking upstairs to find the television on without my permission, I threw the dish towel in my hand at the tv and declared war on the kids. Mya looked at me like what the heck just happened? Weren't we just cuddling in bed? And even though I noticed her baffled look, I just pushed her right in her room without even hearing a single word. I would be sure to win the war I started. I'd show them.
I marched downstairs and angrily threw a few things together for Mya's lunch, thinking how much the kids must be hating me at the moment for breaking up their normal morning routine when all of a sudden, I heard jumping and giggling and laughter, and I thought what the heck? I was supposed to win. Time out was a bust. I opened their door to find the girls dressed for the day and jumping from bed to bed; they even invited me in to play with them. My skin was still boiling for whatever reason, but I managed to calm myself to allow them out of their room and back into their normal routine.
Mya watched me bewildered still. She must think I'm nuts. Hell, I think I'm nuts. But to be 7 and to be in the constant company of someone who has essentially been pregnant or nursing for 7 straight years is nothing short of an accomplishment. Seriously. She should probably write her PhD on how to survive childhood with a hormonal mother. I'll help her write it. Maybe we'll be famous.
But seriously. I have no idea how to explain my behavior 60% of the time (I was really unsure of the percentage there so just go with me...Tim would probably say 80% of the time, but he's a male and who wants his opinion anyway). I feel normal and then all of a sudden I don't. A few Saturdays ago, I started throwing dishes in the cupboards because I didn't like the dinner options Tim suggested. And of course it was all his fault. He watched me storming around the kitchen for a minute but decided football was much more entertaining so he walked himself upstairs so as to leave me to myself. Bad decision Tim. Bad. He heard about it later. I didn't really want him to say anything else, but I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him to pity my crazy self, which I truly think he does on most occasions. Explain that. It can only be left to hormones. We now have a standing rule that unless he cooks on Saturday, we are eating out for dinner because I just can't handle one more night in the kitchen when the weekend comes.
I'm making up all kinds of rules due to my hormones. I'm up. I'm down. I'm all around. And I just can't predict a single thing so the number 1 rule Tim and I have for each other, even though I know it's mostly for me, is that we must wait out some really ridiculous moments and be kind when the moment passes. I almost always feel like a fool when I'm out of my mind; I just don't want people to know that. But when the moment passes and all humility returns to what's left of my brain, I seek refuge from the one person I know loves me completely.
So hormones...you're the worst. But I have something you don't. I have Tim--for better or for worse ;)-- and he is my secret weapon.