By: Harmony Hobbs
I wish to discuss the power of the female hormone. Specifically, the power that it has over ME.
You see … I’m pregnant. But before that, I had PMS.
Generally speaking, I have the kind of PMS that takes control of my life for 1-2 days. I’m like a woman possessed. One minute I’m driving down the road, screaming at everyone who gets in my way, and the next I’m parked at Sonic with a Reese Peanut Butter Cup Sonic Blast with extra chocolate syrup in my hand. I don’t know how it happens. I don’t recall making the decision to stop, or even order.
Being pregnant makes me feel like I have PMS all the time. I knew it would be like this, because this is my second time around the block, but I had forgotten just how all-consuming it can be. It’s beyond my control. I do what I can … but in the end, “Crazy Bitch,” as I call this version of myself, is going to win. The part that I find the most depressing is the fact that I am not able to turn to wine. So I turn to food, which is currently one of the few vices I have left.
I feel most sorry for my husband and child, because they (with the exception of my mother) bear the brunt of my irrational behavior. My poor husband does the best that he can, but nothing he does is ever right, and there is really nothing he can do to make me happy except feed me and lie to me. Or go to the store for more eggs, so I can make the giant omelet I’ve been thinking about all day.
Please note that when I say he can make me happy by lying to me, I mean telling me white lies like “Your skin is glowing,” “You’re not crazy,” or “OF COURSE you’re fun to be around.” REAL lies are not okay. And, in fact, if he made the grave mistake of telling me a real lie, I am quite sure he would be the sorriest man alive.
Recently he tried to get romantic, and chose the wrong moment to pick at a pimple on my back. He literally paused and picked at it. I screeched at him in horror. He said he was just trying to pop it. I said good night.
That was the last opportunity he had for quite some time to get any of THIS back-acned action.
My son is two, and whatever shreds of patience I had before getting pregnant with my second child have been replaced with a wacko tendency to yell. A lot. There’s really nothing more I can say here without making myself sound like a terrible mother. Hopefully we’re all friends here and you can understand where I’m coming from without passing judgment, or wondering why on earth I am procreating again. I’m sure once I give birth I’ll return to my normal, patient self and all will be right again. Right?
RIGHT?!
All of this makes me wonder, is there ever a time when we are free from this vicious cycle of bad behavior? There’s PMS which starts at what – 13? Then pregnancy … then the mystery that is menopause, which seems like it might be the worst of all. And then, are you free? Is it over? Are you sweet and kind all the time, or at the very least, PREDICTABLE?
My husband says that women are complicated and difficult to figure out. I don’t disagree. I hardly understand my own behavior, and currently feel like I’m a slave to it. I’m mad, I’m really mad, I’m sad, I cry, I become kind of happy, and then it starts all over again. All I have to hold onto is my latest craving.
Harmony blew into Birmingham after Hurricane Katrina and is a self-proclaimed “never home maker” striving for a balance between her career and family life. Visit her blog Working Mommy Madness to read more!
