By Tamara Reese for Raising Kvell
I’m
entering into my ninth month of pregnancy; I’ve lost all verbal filters
that I normally employ and for the most part I either explode or cry. I
wasn’t this bad when I was pregnant with the boys (although I was
still, admittedly, super crazy) and perhaps it is a combination of
managing my 4-year-old’s emotions and chasing after my toddler with
fierce hip pain and heartburn, but I want to verbally assault anyone who
even looks at me wrong. I’m cranky. So that’s where I’m at.
decision.
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It
was one of those days where I would’ve been better off staying in bed
under the covers. Work had been stressful. My bus home was delayed. A
close friend’s actions had left me feeling hurt. And just as I was
gearing up to put my toddler to bed, my husband called with the news
that our car, which he was supposed to be taking for a simple oil
change, would need several thousand dollars worth of repairs.