I Yelled

I spend a lot of time at home. Because I do, you would think my house would be in perfect working order, my children would be perfectly clean, and my hair would be impeccable. And when I say “you would think” I’m mostly talking about people who don’t spend most of their time at home because those who DO know how impossible it is to attain any (let alone ALL) of those things.
Before I became pregnant, I had a wonderful routine down. It fit perfectly with my lifestyle, and I was able to somewhat maintain my home, myself, my children, AND my personality. Then along came pregnancy, and I’m doing good to get a shower and two out of three meals on the table.
Well, yesterday I did something I’ve never done in my marriage.
I YELLED at my husband.

This pregnancy is making me FEEL everything so deeply. When I feel happiness, I’m over the moon with smiles and giggles. When I’m a little bit sad, I can’t stop gushing tears (the “who died?” kind of tears). And when I’m mad… well, I’m MAD.

Because I spend most all of my time at home, I have a lot of time to think about what makes me mad… so all day long as I went from the couch to the kitchen to the couch to the laundry room to the couch to the bathroom, I got more angry and more angry.
I described it to my husband like this, “Imagine the WORST part of your job… the part you hate the most, even though you LOVE your job, and think of having to do the WORST part of it all of the time! Except when you’re not doing it, you’re SICK! And SOMETIMES! SOMETIMES YOU GET SO SO SO SICK! OF DOING IT ALL THE TIME! THAT YOU THROW UP YOUR HANDS AND SAY I GIVE UP! AND THEN WHILE YOU’RE TRYING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT, IT GETS BIGGER AND BIGGER AND BIGGER AND IT LOOMS OVER AND TAUNTS YOU AND ON TOP OF FEELING OVERWHELMED YOU FEEL GUILTY!”
I stopped there to take a breath. Then I continued.
And then I breathed. Heavily. Deeply. I had to, in fact, catch my breath. And do you know what that man did?
He smiled.
And then LAUGHED. HE LAUGHED at me! I yelled at him and he laughed at me!
“Honey,” he said, “Didn’t I get you the name of a housekeeper?”
“Well, yeah,” I shrugged.
“Did you need me to call her too? Do I need to do all the work here?”
“Oh,” I deflated, “I didn’t know I could call her. I guess I was waiting to have the cash in my hand.”
“Call her. Set it up. I will take care of it.”

I will take care of it.

It’s what every wife wants to hear.

I’m going to try not ever yelling at him again -he’s really a good egg. In other news, the kids and I heated up a bunch of rocks in the oven and then colored all over them while they were still hot. When you apply crayons to hot rocks, they melt beautifully.

The kids had a blast, and I felt a sort of pang of sympathy for rock lovers ’round the world because my kids had simply hauled in rocks from my yard to color on and approximately 50% of those rocks were petrified wood. And we were heating it up and defacing it. Most of the people who live in Geology Wonderland just don’t appreciate like they should.

This rock was my favorite. The boy calls it his “Green Lantern” rock. It gives me power, you know.

Maybe having that rock around is what got me all… worked up and mad. If the ROCK has that much power, surely it can’t be ALL my fault.
The rock must be destroyed…


  1. This was an awesome post for several reasons. I can’t wait to hear that you finally DID get a housekeeper hired. That would make pregnancy so much more stand-able…

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