Oh Hormones, You Slay Me

So this weekend I had what I would like to think is my first real pregnant hormonal ragefest. I'm sure E would beg to differ but this isn't his blog.

I should preface this story with the fact that it was no less than 3,000 degrees with another 2,000% humidity making it hellish at my house this weekend. Not just weather wise. And this my dear friends, is where our story begins...

After taking the dog for a walk without feeding the beast (bad idea) we got home sweaty and tired and I proclaimed that I was hungry. Obviously any rational husband would cower in fear and immediately turn into a short order cook and make me eggs in under a minute because I'm hungry and could go into Incredible Hulk mode at any time. Not my husband. No, he slowly and carefully pulls out all of the individual ingredients, walking each ingredient lovingly over to the stove to be prepared for cooking. My patience began to fade as he lovingly debated whether or not to add sausage to the eggs. This is when I shouted "IF YOU DON'T MAKE THE DAMN EGGS NOW I AM GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH!"

Well this didn't go over very well and caused my husband to begrudgingly make me eggs (sans sausage) while grumpily slamming pots and pans to which I rationally responded by crying. Obviously. I even at one point tried to make him stop slamming pans and cabinets by weeping and telling him to stop and that I needed a hug. This request was met with "I HAVE TO MAKE THE EGGS!" Obviously at this point I should have removed myself from the situation. Instead I decided to shout that I'm pregnant and should be allowed to be irrational and cry. Husband response = more slamming pots and pans.

So I decided to lay on the couch and read US Weekly until the eggs were done, which was like another hour I swear. And when I got up to eat I noticed that my loving husband put I kid you not an entire onion in the eggs knowing that he loves over onioned food and I do not because I'm normal and don't want to eat whole onions. I even got him to admit to intentional onion abuse the next day.

At the time this was tragic and an awful start to the day (the onions in the eggs, the crying, the fighting!) but now as I sit and type this I'm kind of cracking up. I swear you can't script this shit.

I love you sweetheart, even if you admittedly over onion things when you're mad at me. You'll just end up paying for it in gaseous fumes later anyway...