Yet Another Grump-tastic Afternoon!

This sign was on the back of my cereal box the other day. I feel it's appropriate because someone has a serious case of the Ogres this week. And no, it's not Eric or the Dizzy cat. It's me.

I put the sign on our front door the other day to warn Eric of his impending doom. I didn't care about what the neighbors thought. They already keep their distance because two Halloweens ago I accidentally slammed the door in the face of the five-year-old boy across the hall when he came to our door trick-o-treating. It was a complete misunderstanding!! Still, word must have gotten out that a crazy redhead lives here because last year we didn't get any trick-o-treaters at all.

Now my pregnancy hormones are making me an extra-crazy fat redhead. I feel like I have Seasonal Affective Disorder except aren't you supposed to get that in the winter??? Yesterday, around 4 PM, I went absolutely stir crazy and had to get out of the house "N-O-W!" before I got all Jack Nicholson from The Shinning. Eric-the-wonder-boyfriend brought me to Starbucks and bought me a chocolate-chip frappuccino because (once again) Eric has learned to feed me whenever I get cranky. It worked.

Today we were supposed to go to the beach where I was looking forward to sitting with my feet in the water and letting my freckles marinate thus giving me the illusion of a tan. BUT, this morning the news told us it was going to thunderstorm all day. (For the record, it did NOT thunderstorm, and it's currently very hot and sunny out. That's what comes from watching the news!)

Instead, we decided to go into Boston for the day so I could check out a ridiculously trendy and overpriced baby store that I heard about. We didn't buy anything there because we're not trendy enough, but it sure was fun to look.

All was well through lunch, but then we decided to leave the air-conditioned sanctuary of the mall for some outdoor window shopping/gawking. Once the heat hit me, my legs swelled, my hair frizzed, and my face turned the color of freshly stomped grapes. And, the last place you want to feel like you're playing the title role in Attack of the Killer Tomato is a trendy area like Newbury Street. I kept looking at the storefronts and thinking, "Wow, I wish I had $200 and a WAIST so I could wear those skinny jeans."

Therefore, we decided to cut the afternoon short and head back to the train. This made me even more grumpy because I WANTED to hang out longer. I WANTED to window shop and sit on the common and mosey back to the train slowly...and enjoy myself dammit! Still, my body was making that impossible. Everything hurt. My melon belly hurt, my teeth hurt for some reason, and most of all my legs hurt.

I know there are pregnant ladies out there who run marathons. There are probably still pregnant ladies in parts of this world who pop out kids in fields, strap them to their backs and get back to work. Well, I give those ladies my undying respect because honestly, I'm a whiny little wimp who can't even window shop for more than two hours without feeling like my cankles are going to explode.

To further complicate the situation, we passed through Fanuiel Hall on our way back to the train because we're complete morons obviously. What better place for a cranky, fat pregnant lady to go than a hot, crowded tourist trap where the bathrooms just may be one of Dante's levels of hell?

Luckily, there was a Starbucks there, and Eric still has gift cards from his darling students. Another chocolate chip frappuccino was consumed. This time it didn't help. Poor Eric was subjected to me snapping at him for looking at me and listening to me badmouth every annoying person we saw on the train. My bad mood stayed in place the entire train ride home and didn't subside until I was safely cocooned in our air conditioned apartment.

Lesson Learned: If I stay at home all day, I'll be cranky. If I try to go out and have fun, I'll be cranky. So, what's a pregnant lady in search of a good time supposed to do for the next ten weeks?


(Arrgggh! I'm a Krampus!)