Hormones are definitely the root of all evil at the moment. The past week has just been so hard and the smallest thing can set me off. Big things too. I don’t blog about family so I won’t go into details and I tend not to tweet about them either unless it is funny or I just can’t keep it in. I don’t know who reads this, but it wouldn’t be hard to find and I just couldn’t bear it if my words upset someone.
Stupid I know, particularly as I am the one that is currently upset.
Something has snapped in me in the past 24 hours and I am currently prone to bouts of weeping as soon as something is vaguely difficult or doesn’t go my way. Piran is wandering round looking bewildered wondering what is wrong with Mummy and Mr C is just trying to get through the day without making it any worse, or having a plug thrown at his head (that happened last time I was pregnant, and has become an unofficial bench mark to how bad things can get. It was close yesterday, although it would have been his Blackberry this time).
I keep digging deep, finding some reserves, fixing a smile on my face and finding that positive attitude. Then losing it all again over the smallest little thing. It is frustrating. I hate who I am when I am like this.
This evening I was sat on the sofa under the quilt I made for Thumper. I was stroking the soft flannel and wondering what she will look like lying on it. Piran came over and lifted the corner of the quilt asking to come and sit next to me. I was given a kiss and a cuddle and we were mucking around when Mr C started taking pictures. I have seen them all, deleted some, moaned about my hair and my chins. Then I saw this and I know that even in my darkest hardest moments I have love and laughter at the end of my tickley finger tips.
That is enough to get me through.