Annoyed

Can someone please explain the phenomenon where husbands/partners see that you're in a shitty mood, are annoyed by some of the same factors (like the four year old who is losing his mind without a routine for the second week in a row), yet still manage to take great joy in pushing all of the buttons that they can locate to aggravate you further? I don't get it. I swear, I don't.

Then he questions if I'm mad at him. Is he fucking kidding me? If I saw he was in a bad mood, actually KNEW some of the reasons...I just may try to give him some breathing space rather than deliberately irritate the shit out of him with whatever energy I could garner.

I cannot wait until he starts his new job. These two weeks are killing me. He's been off since Friday and isn't starting until July 5. Luckily, he's going into NYC to spend the day at his new job and learn some of the ropes, set up email, etc. So I'll have at least ONE annoying boy out of my house for the day.

Then Laszlo starts camp on Friday. His OT doesn't start up again until July 6. I'm hoping it doesn't take him too long to adjust to his summer schedule. I think it's just the utter lack of a schedule that's been making him behave disgustingly. I always heard about this, but had never experienced it until this time. On all his school breaks, he did great. Maybe it's because he knows when he starts again, it's going to be different.

All I know is that Robert took Laszlo to my mom's pool and I just put Lily in for a nap because I told Robert that I *had* to get some work done. Of course he can work any time of day or night and just lets me know he's doing it, but I have to give him a day's notice that I need to be in the basement dyeing and sewing for him to prepare to care for the kids. And it's just Laszlo since Lily's asleep.

Hormones anyone? But seriously, this would have me nutty on my best (non-pregnant) day.

I think I'll take a nap for a half hour and THEN go into the basement, gotta get rid of this tension headache and cool off my brain before working...otherwise I'll make careless mistakes that will piss me off even further.

/end rant

Prego Dreams

The other night/morning, I had two bizarre dreams.

I can't remember which one came first, so I'll start with the less bizarre one.

I was a contestant on Last Comic Standing. I hadn't told any jokes yet and it was time for my audition. I was in a bar and it was on camera and there was some Simon Cowell-esque guy hosting. He wanted us all to take a few seconds to tell our best joke. My mind was blank. I was only able to think of a joke about a guy who walks into his kitchen with a sheep under his arm. "Honey, this is the pig I've been fucking." Wife says, "That's not a pig, that's a sheep." "I wasn't talking to YOU." But I knew everyone already knew that joke.

Gary Gulman ( http://www.garygulman.com ) was a contestant too and there was some behind the scenes flirtation between us (I DO think he's totally adorable and really funny). I wanted him in a major way. I told my joke and it sucked. Gary laughed at me, not with me. It wasn't good.

I think that's the end of that dream.

The other dream was that I was awakened by a feeling of dripping from my crotch. I went to the bathroom to pee and saw blood. I looked on our bed and there was blood all over Laszlo who was sleeping with us that night. It was my blood, from losing this baby. I sat on the toilet and called to Robert to wake up. I cried that I was having a miscarriage. I pushed something out, then we retrieved it from the toilet. It was a plastic pregnancy-test type of device, with a tiny plastic fetus attached to it. This was our baby. Robert held it and said, "Wow, and it looks so much like Lily." I thought he was nuts, because it was just a small piece of pink plastic and looked nothing like a real person. I remember feeling awful that I lost the baby, but confused about what it was. I was thinking that I forgot to remove this device from myself after I found out I was pregnant, and that it somehow caused the loss. And that surreal little pink plastic face.

Then I started thinking that maybe it wasn't my baby. I called the doctor and they kept giving me a run around, not letting me speak to the actual doctor and not giving what I was saying any validity. I was terribly frustrated.

I think that's the end of that dream. Not expecting any interpretations, I realize they are hormonally-charged crazy prego-lady dreams, not to be understood by anyone.

Except maybe Gary Gulman.