So...blame it on prego brain or call it revisionist history, but I can't remember what my personality was like before I got pregnant. Although I'm pretty sure I wasn't that emotional. Didn't cry that much. Didn't get that angry. Definitely didn't have that many meltdowns! Dare I go so far as to describe my pre-prego self as mostly calm, cool and collected? I mean, don't get me wrong, I definitely had my moments. But since becoming pregnant, woah, child! I've learned that I have the capacity to be one freakin' hot mess prego.
So in honor of my third trimester, here are three prego meltdowns that I'm not particularly proud of (in no particular order):
The Delivery Boy Destruction: Don't mess with a hungry prego!
I'd like to preface this by saying: Dear Mr. delivery guy of sub sandwich shop that shall remain nameless, if you are out there, I am very sorry for what you had to go through and if I could take it back, I would... Long story short, forty-five minutes after placing my order for a veggie sub, this hungry prego was pacing on her front porch, frantically searching for the headlights of the delivery truck. By the time the sub sandwich showed up (it took an hour and 15 minutes!), I'd officially lost my mind. Eyes bulging, hormones raging, face beat red, I called the manager from the delivery guy's phone and argued that he should give the sub to me for free. The manager said no so I held the delivery guy's phone hostage and said I wouldn't return it until he gave me my free sub. The poor guy just stared at me as if he was witnessing an exorcism. As my head spun around on my neck, I had visions of grabbing the sub, locking my front door and eating the sandwich in a heated rush before the prego police showed up to revoke my prego card and throw me in the loony bin. The hubs gently grabbed the delivery guy's phone from my hand and sent him on his way with the sub. As I watched the delivery truck disappear down the street and big wet tears fell down my cheeks, I knew it was one of the lowest points of my prego career.
Mint Chip Meltdown: Don't ef with a prego's cravings
Let's just say that since I've been with child, I've been rather territorial about certain food. And when the hubs polished off the last few spoonfuls of my beloved mint chip ice cream, you would've thought he'd told me I looked fat in my maternity pants. As I clutched the empty Breyer's ice cream container for dear life and thought about licking the remaining mint chip clumps off the lid, I began sobbing hysterically. Hubs offered to go to the store and get more but I stomped out of the kitchen like a five-year-old child throwing a temper tantrum and refused to let him go. I knew I was being ridiculous but I couldn't stop myself or the tears from flowing. I cried myself to sleep, wondering if the hubs would still love me in the morning. (He did.)
Christmas Card Catastrophe: humor the prego's neuroses
It was a few weeks before Thanksgiving. And you'd think I would've been worried about the fifteen family members I was having over, who was making the stuffing or if the turkey was going to be large enough for me (and everyone else). Nope. I was obsessing about our Christmas cards. I was nearly eight months pregnant and it dawned on me that if I gave birth a few weeks early, I'd *gasp*, never get my holiday cards out on time. I knew I couldn't sleep that night until the cards were handled. As I hopped on Shutterfly and began desperately uploading photos and arranging them in the holiday card template, all hubs could do was roll his eyes. He tried to be the voice of reason, explaining that we had plenty of time, but I couldn't stop. I was like a mad woman, determined to get the cards out not one minute later than December 1. And I made it! Well, until I came up 25 cards short and had to do a re-order. And we won't even get into what my mood was after that. *I'm sure you can take an educated guess*
Lisa, a.k.a, "hot mess prego"