Well folks, at just two days shy of 24 weeks, I had my very first pregnancy hormone-induced meltdown yesterday. All because a conversation between my husband and I ended less than perfectly and it hurt my feelings. My response to this, like many of other times, was to CLEAN HOUSE! But first.. I gave the dog a bath so that I could wash his beds. My dog, who hates getting baths, usually hides in the corner of the living room which happens to also be the furthest location he can get to away from the bathroom. I literally have to bend over, wrap my arms around his belly and wheel barrow him into the bathroom. For the last month or so, I've been letting Barry pick his fat ass, 60 pound-weighing self up and put him into the tub for me, but because I was livid by this point, I decided to make things work however I could so that I wouldn't have to break the silence between us. I propped Bentley's front paws up on the side of the tub and grabbed his back legs up to the same height. He basically had no choice at this point but to hop down into the basin. After thoroughly wetting his coat I applied a liberal amount of shampoo down his neck and spine and as soon as I began to massage it in, he shook. SOAP. FUCKING. EVERYWHERE.. I held him by the back of the neck and yelled "no! Bad!" Instinctively I wanted to punch him and at this very thought, it happened.. A waterfall of weeping had began. Here I am, standing in the tub, soaked from head to toe, after I've already had my shower, and I'm weeping as I continue to bathe the dog. The poor dog who has no idea what in the hell he did wrong. And the kind of weeping where you can't do anything but stand there and cry with your mouth agape and quick shallow breaths expelling from your lungs. Adding fuel to this aggressively growing fire was that I couldn't do anything but think to myself, "how in the hell am I going to have patience for a child if I don't even have any for my dog?" and "I'm going to be worst mother in the world." In retrospect I believe at this point I was crying just to cry. Because it just felt good to get it out. All of this went on for a minute or so with the water running, my head hung to the floor, and Bentley just standing there half covered in soap before I was finally able to catch my breath and a fraction of my sanity; enough to resume this unneccisary chore.
After soaking me once more I finally managed to finish up.
I reached for his towel and dried my eyes and managed to muster up enough patience to gently dry him off and help him out of the tub. As Bentley jetted his way from room to room, swan diving into every inch of rug or piece of carpet he could find to dry himself off the rest of the way. I picked up the broom and began sweeping. I had swept the kitchen and half of the living room when I heard Bentley cough. I turned around to find a projectile trail of white, foamy yack on the part of the floor I'd just cleaned... I felt the tears well up once again as I stood there starring at it- unable to move and get a paper towel.
Fast forwarding- after I finished the floors in each room, I began to dust. I took everything off a particular shelf that gets overlooked frequently because I can't reach everything on top of it without standing in a chair, (which I have no business doing right now anyways..) but part of me wanted Barry to walk in and find me standing in that chair to dust said shelf. Part of me wanted to make myself look pathetic, or cute, or however I needed to look to move on the next conversation and squash whatever kind of stink that was earlier between us. After standing atop of the chair, dusting back and forth for what seemed like forever with no Bear in sight, I hopped down and proceeded to dust the entertainment center below. It didn't take karma very long as within a few seconds after climbing down out of the chair, my fucking pinky toe met the support leg under the entertainment center with such crippling force, it sent me breathless to my knees and then into the fetal position.. I don't know if was the sheer adrenaline from anger or what, but a few moments later I was back to cleaning. About this time is when Barry FINALLY decided to come in from outside and see me. All of the prior events unbeknownst to him, he bent down to give me a kiss as I was sitting on the floor and noticed my red face and soupy eyes. "Of course," I thought myself. "This is how you'd find me..."
As "baby, what's wrong?" gently rolled off of his tongue, I lost it..
I explained the best I could, in between weeps of what was wrong but by the time I made it to "and then he shook off and got soapy water all over me," I knew how utterly ridiculous I sounded. And it hit me.. I'm pregnant.. and all of what it happening in this tiny moment in time is okay..
Barry scooped me up and held me so tightly. We each apologized for leaving the conversation earlier as we did. Afterwards we made BLT's for diner and watched a hilariously bad movie that we made fun of nearly through it's entirety.
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