Repressed Tears

The theme of this week is repressed tears. Mine of course, not the girls. They never repress their tears unless I am promising that they will never see their pink bear/pillow/ariel doll again if they don't STOP CRYING RIGHT NOW. Now that I am pregnant I cry a lot, and not just over Olympic commercials with little kids in them. I cry out of self-pity, which is not at all charming or endearing.

For the sake of maintaining friends, my sanity, and what little of my image is left after walking around looking like a hobo with a basketball in her shirt, I sometimes try to repress these tears. And this has been a great repressed tear week.

Let's start out with repressed tear incident #1:  Daylight Savings. Let me get this straight. Some IDIOT thought of this idea so he could collect insects. Thank you Mr. Insect Collector (This is according to Wikipedia, which we all know is the source of ultimate truth.).

Anyway, the Sunday of Daylight Savings Time Mike had an early morning meeting. This inspired him to make breakfast for us when he got home. But then, this is where the repressed tears enter in, he woke us all up. As I sat down to eat my delicious eggs and pancake breakfast, two tears may have squeezed out of my tired eyes. I tried to pass off my squinty eyes and grunting as sheer joy that I was eating such a nice breakfast prepared by someone other than myself, but I'm not sure Mike bought it. Especially when I crawled back into bed right after I ate.

Repressed Tear Incident #2: Daylight Savings got my week off to a wonderful start. Besides losing an hour of sleep and being all discombobulated (what a great word.) by the strange new world of daylight, I got a cold. On Monday morning I heard the girls wake up at 7:30 (which mind you, is still 6:30 a.m. in the perfect-world-where-Daylight-Savings-only-occurs-if-you-have-committed-a-crime-against-children-and-deserve-a-special-kind-of-hell.) Mike has already left for work, so I stumble blearily into the girl's room and say, in a cheery morning voice, "Girls. It is way too early to be awake and I feel like toast that has been left out all day. Go back to bed and let me sleep. Please."  I think this cheery voice might have been accompanied by a small sob of self-pity. Then I stumbled back to my room, shut the door and fell into a coma.

At 8:40 a.m. I woke up again, still feeling like toast, but a little bit fresher. I walked out and Kenzie and Hannah were sitting in the front room reading books. Dressed. Wowsa! Kenzie said matter-of-factly, "We've already eaten breakfast." At that moment, I felt the same feeling I do when I'm looking at them asleep in their beds--the perfect, darling angels.

Repressed Tears Incident #3: So as the week progresses, my stuffy nose progresses to a sinus infection of the third degree. After a night of wondering if my face is eating itself from the bones outward, I go to the doctor who gives me an antibiotic, tells me to buy some Claritin and Sudafed and sends me on my merry way. I head to Walgreens to fill the prescription and buy my drugs. At the counter, they ask for my ID, because, due to meth-heads you have to buy Sudafed from behind the counter with an ID. When the girl checks my license, she clucks. "Oh it's expired. Hey, do we take expired licenses for Sudafed?" she asks some other pharmacist guy.

"Oh no," he shakes his head as if I, the pregnant lady with the stuffy nose must be some convict ready to cook up some meth as soon as I get home. Because what kind of person lets their license expire and tries to buy Sudafed with it?

"Sorry," says the girl and puts the Sudafed away. "Better get this license taken care of. My boyfriend just got a $120 ticket for driving with an expired license." 

At first I feel tears (again with the self-pity. Seriously). I avoid eye contact and buy my prescription. Then I feel ANGER. I have to quickly leave the store before I vault over the counter, grab the Sudafed and punch the pharmacy people.  Nevermind that I have never punched anyone and that my already lacking vaulting skills are seriously hampered by my large stomach.  

So this has been a week of self-pity. I must have oozed enough self-pity that my neighbors and my mom felt sorry for me. Jessica watched the girls two days in a row, my mom brought me dinner and Melissa brought me dinner too. I really have been taken care of. I am feeling a little better and once the Sudafed (that Mike bought me) kicks in I can breathe.

So, no more whining, and I mean it. (Anybody, want a peanut?)