Good news for everyone, but most of all me. I am back to a normal mood. Normal for a pregnant woman, at least. I went to the doctor on Thursday and she told me everyone goes through the crazy mood swings and that I should go home and rent a sad movie and cry it all out. I didn't do that. Why? Well...because I couldn't wait that long. When I got back to work, I had a major meltdown that required lots of Kleenex and a coworker dragging me out to the mall for a break. One red velvet cupcake later, I was starting to feel better. It's a scientific thing...endorphins being released in the brain, stuff like that. So really, in those types of situations, it's best to eat sweets. It's true. Besides, when I go back to the doctor again, I'm being tested for gestational diabetes and on the off chance that sweets become off limits at that time, I need to make sure I've met my quota. Also, when your doctor says something amazing like, "You're still under the normal weight gain for this point in your pregnancy," HOW ELSE are you going to celebrate?! I heard "cupcake" from at least three of you. Those of you who said "ice cream", that is also a correct response. I would have also accepted cookie, milkshake and/or pie. And pancakes.
It's possible that the cupcake saved some other lives as well. Because it elevated my mood to "non-murderous" on Thursday, the DAs on Friday who had stupid things to say to me lived to see another weekend. I realize that some people are socially inept and some people are men. Falling into one of those two categories is dangerous when speaking to a pregnant woman. So here are two examples of what NOT to say, ever, at any point, unless you are a very fast runner or have cat-like reflexes: "I was so sure you were having a girl because your nose is doing the same thing mine did and getting really huge!! I mean, it looks better today than it has before, but I can still see it." Her house stands a pretty good chance of getting toilet papered soon. I'm not above that. Next comment (in the same day of course, that's how this seems to work): "Wow, someone's really putting on some weight. Haha...at least it's in all the right places. Congratulations, by the way." In my head, I mashed my index finger against his lips and said, "Shhhhhhhhhh!". JUST. SAY. CONGRATS. That is all. Leave it at that. In fact, take your cue from my obviously well-informed boyfriend and say things like, "You're so skinny," and "You could be a pregnant mom model." I'm not going to believe you, but I'm also not going to punch you, so everybody wins.
The weekend was much better. I ordered BabyKer some pacifiers that are supposed to be great, we bought him some teeny tiny flip-flops that look like they could be a keychain, but for $1, he really needed them. I also bought him a copy of Love You Forever, by Robert Munsch and was going to open it up and read it in the car, but I got teary-eyed just thinking about it, so maybe another day. Sunday, we took him to his first scary movie, Paranormal Activity 2. High five to Peyton for doing something he really did not want to do and high five to BabyKer for not being scared at all. I walked out of the theater and told Peyton the movie just made me more excited for the baby because the one in the movie was so cute. He thought that was weird. If he's just now figuring this out about me, he has only himself to blame because I've done very little to hide it.
On a side note, besides being a scary movie fan, BabyKer is also now a baseball fan. He and his daddy actually got so excited during the game on Friday night that I had to separate the two of them for a few minutes. I think our house is going to be loud. Whatever, as long as it's happy.