Walking On Eggshells, er glass...

I finally put my finger on it. I couldn't quite figure out what was so different between this pregnancy and my first one, but as I was switching over my laundry I figured it out. I went to put the wet clothes into the dryer and almost started crying as I was untangling a huge mass of drawstrings (thank you maternity pants). I sat there wondering why this was so upsetting to my body.

Was it (A) because I had just finished cleaning this up:

For dinner I made stuffed peppers in tomato sauce. All six of my peppers were so pretty in their glass 9x13 pan. The meat/onion/rice filling actually appealed to me and I got excited that I may get to eat this dinner (thanks pregnancy stomach). Five minutes after I put the pan in the oven there was a horrible noise like metal being whirled around in a Cuisinart. Blake immediately started crying and I ran into the kitchen thinking a dog had somehow jumped onto the counter and started a major appliance. When I looked in the oven I was amazed to find six peppers just sitting on the oven rack with shards of glass everywhere. My glass pan just blew up. It is a relatively new pan so we can't play the vintage card here. Fun cleaning that up!

Anyways, I am now going to choose option (B) on why I think I am losing all control. It is because I realized I constantly feel like I am walking on eggshells, as well as broken glass. Who am I scared of? The Pregnant Lady. I used to be the pregnant lady when I was pregnant with Blake. I wanted everyone to look over at me and say, "Oh look, it is the pregnant lady." My was I proud. Now it is different. Now, I wake up every morning saying to myself, "Don't upset the Pregnant Lady." I imagine this lady living somewhere between the placenta and my liver. When I ate scrambled eggs this morning I knew better. Thirty minutes later I was facing the Pregnant Lady.

She said, "Now why did you do that? You knew better than to eat scrambled eggs before 11am. See how you had your head in the sink (I now cannot throw up in the toilet because Blake thinks it is too scary so I have resorted to the sink). That should teach you, but I have a feeling you will attempt some other bad thing to make me mad."

Pregnant Lady can get mad at the smallest things like when I forget my cell phone charger upstairs after making my decent and have to turn right back around and face the mountain of stairs I just came down. She somehow put blame on me for getting stuck talking to that weird woman in the grocery store. The emotions she leaves behind remind me of a conversation I had with my high school geometry teacher regarding my intelligence -- it didn't start or end well.

As it goes, I live my days satisfying my young fetus' need for road stand hot dogs and trying my hardest not to wake the sleeping Pregnant Lady. My life is wonderful so please pardon me if I sound like a whiner, for I am just a bit overwhelmed tonight.