So, we didn’t put up the Christmas tree last night. I was far too grumpy and Keiran was too late home from work for me to be bothered to wallow in festive cheer. I drank my mulled wine tea and adored my tiny Baby Ruby. Then ‘Da Hubs’ called me ‘rude,’ because…well i was being ‘rude,’ so i ventured up to bed for an hour to calm my stressy ‘ugh-fest.’ This ‘staying calm’ marlarky is harder than you think. I’m doing alright at it though, as i’m only tending to the odd giant outburst of ‘grrr…’ and when i feel he’s wound me up, or disrespected me, without the delicate touch of consideration. We made up last night, whilst cuddling on the sofa, and then lais in each others arms in bed, all topless and cuddly. I had my final weep of the day and woke up feeling refreshed, after apologising for being mental the evening before. Then after about an hour of being ‘wakey-wakey’ the bickering began and this time because he was apparently making some ‘joke’ about how i now don’t cook and clean because i use pregnancy as an excuse. Hmm…now any smart human being, with a half working brain, would probably know that, that isn’t the sort of joke to be laying out to your hormonal pregnant wife. I had a little ‘shout’ at him…as i believe if i’ve told someone how i’m feeling internally and how it is making me react to things, then they are already prepared for what may come if they are to play with fire and therefore, quite smartly need to adjust appropriately. Plus, i hate it when people look after you and do lovely things for you and then complain about having to look after you and do the lovely things for you. It doesn’t make sense. Plus, i have a mild disliking to folk, in fact no not folk, the man i’m married to, as i don’t really care too much about what folk think, who state that ‘i’m not doing anything.’ I’m growing your future child, that you will *gush* over in 6 months time, like i’m some kind of victorious Greek God, in my belly and having to go through life, body, physical, emotional and mental changes for it. That’s not nothing. That’s literally life and without me going through this process….he would have no child at all. That deserves respect, cosideration and a whole lot of understanding.
Luckily, he had the gym to escape to for an hour, which was good because we could both breathe. I spent the time cuddling my tiny Baby Rubes by chocolate Weetabix and Saturday morning children’s telly. Then he came back with Phil and they tinkered with the bike and put bets on the football, as i built toy empires with the fruit of my loins with giant lego. Once Philly had left, he approached me kindly and lovingly with a hug from behind and sweet words. Everything was going to be okay and everything was about to turn rosy.
I told him that i expected an apology, for being mean to me, (i actually meant for not taking my feelings into consideration,) and thought he would quite happily since i’ve been highly apologetic over the past week, whenever i’ve been foolish. He did.Yet he did so….reluctantly! What?
Anyway we try to find that ‘make up’ balance and don’t. It ends in a bicker, a fight, him stating that he was only joking earlier, yet then went on to recrack a joke about me being insane. Neither of us would drop it and it was going to get messy. I get so stressed out internally, that i have a bit of a swear and a bit of a shout and *storm out* with an ‘I’M LEAVING.’ (He follows and starts shouting up the stairs at me, again about how he does everything and how i do ‘nothing.’ So, i threw a half full baby bottle at him. It missed. I’m a shit aim. I don’t think having a baby and providing a home is nothing and this time i’m not backing down! I’ve said, ‘sorry’ far too much.
I’m in the mirror, FUMING. The hair gets angrily groomed, the face gets bronzed a little more, the pout gets bigger, the pyjamas get flung on the floor and the faux fur and pleather go on! I grab my golden bag, and my phone. I have a tiny hunt for my keys and then i’m out and leave the house in a huff. (I looked quite glam for the huff, even if i do say so myself.) When i left he was washing up. People tend to go for mundane practical chores, when they need a think or a cool down.
So, now i’m calming down and breathing out and feeling much better. I’m stressed…yes and whenever i get stressed my little belly bulge begins to achey. #notgood. Luckily, i have a random child in a pink tu-tu, Irish jigging next to me, to ease the stress levels. Lol. I have my scan in 6 days, so timeouts are good right now! *Breathe here* Diffuuuuuuuuuse the tick- tick bomby.
Today, should be a good day. We were meant to be putting up the Christmas tree this morning to make up for last night. We haven’t. Plus, today is the day we get our early Christmas pressie from my mum, at around 1pm. Everything should be all exciting and fun, yet because we’re both stubborn enough to refuse to find balance…it’s all going preggo pear shaped. Like i always say, i am feisty ANYWAY. So when hormonal, i’m not a kitten to attempt to challenge.
On a delicious note, my good friend ‘Blond Emma’ has turned another year older and my my what treats she has been given. She now has a new lovely beau in her life, who delights in treating her to lavishly, lovely, luxurious bits of ‘yum yum.’ She’s been gifted with Louboutins (Holy Moly…especially since she received Jimmy Choo boots earlier this year :),) she’s been treated with a New Year Ski Holiday, posh weekends aways, beautiful dinners, romance, and now a trip to the Maldives come February! Wa-woo-wee! It’s fantabulous behaviour and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So Happy Birthday to Ems!
Days turn out in the fashion that you wish them to, so i’ll see how adjusting, winking and that little bit of Wunna charm changes my day to one of glory.
Looking forward to our early Xmas gift!