BABY HORMONE MELTDOWN

Yesterday I had a massive, complete, dramatic, traumatic meltdown.  I sobbed enthusiastically, had to wipe my snotty nose on the back of my hand and was so blinded by my tears I couldn’t see where to connect the vacuum tube to the machine as I tried to clean the house.  I wasn’t crying about the cleaning, (though it’s not a task I love) I was crying about my husband’s work hours and how I never see him.  I believe the phrase 1950’s housewife was used, as was ‘feeling forgotten,’ ‘hospitality widow,’ and ‘don’t you like me anymore.’  Even I knew that last one was a bit of a stretch and probably destroyed any credibility I had managed to gain. 

This had been building for weeks, twelve to be precise, (when Gregory started the job) and on his day off, when Gregory was delayed returning from his investigation of his vegetable garden at my parent’s house, leaving me in a café doing work until his return, I fell apart and began my performance which culminated in me sitting on my husband’s lap, tears streaming down my face and wailing; “and I’ve got to vacuum the floor!!!”

Once we’d democratically cleaned the house – me the vacuum, Gregory the mop – we then went on a post-incident walk and talk and I asked Gregory what percentage of today’s meltdown did he think was the result of peanut hormones.
“115%” he replied without hesitating.

So now I don’t know whether to be flattered that he doesn’t think Captain Crazy is my usual state of being, or distressed that he won’t take anything I cried about seriously because he thinks it’s all the result of being under the influence of baby hormones.

Anyone else out there know how I feel?