I'm sure most of my family and friends were dreading the upcoming months once I announced I was pregnant. Tammy, on hormones?! Much to their pleasant surprise, pregnancy evened me out beautifully. Things didn't bother me, I wasn't stressed (mostly) and I was more often than not a rosy cheeked, smiling young mom-to-be.
And then I gave birth. I now know why hormone replacement therapy is considered essential in most cases after menopause. The first week after their birth, I was a sappy, easily saddened person. I chalked that up to normal, postpartum hormone raging. After that, one week I would be a doll, and the next your worst nightmare. Forget bridezillas, they should coin the term mommyzilla. Bobby put up with this quite well. There was a lot of, "Yes, dear". On a few occasions, bless his heart, he spoke up and told me that maybe I wanted to tone it down. No, I like talking about my feelings. I like talking about what makes me pissed. I like yelling about how nothing goes the way I planned. Why doesn't anybody respect my plan? You get the picture.
So let's fast-forward to this month. My license has been temporarily taken away because of my epilepsy, so I've been confined to the home. This is not something to do to a woman who is mostly irrational. Last week I spent an astounding six days without leaving the home. I am normally the type of person you likes to be constantly going. While the occasional lazy day is always appreciated, I'd rather be out and about doing this and that. I get to go running with my mother-in-law once a week for an hour and a half. Thank God for that.
I didn't realize how bad this was all getting until yesterday. Bobby went to the doctor and told me he was thinking he would like to get a gym membership and start working out. So, instead of being a good wife and telling him what a great idea that was, I instead grilled him. So when are you planning on doing this? Don't I ever get to do something outside of the house? You know, I would LOVE to go work out. But I guess I won't ever be able to. I guess I'll just get the babies ready every morning. Yes, you could actually see the horns growing from my head. And then, in true Tammy fashion, after telling him I don't have an attitude, I start crying. The violins were playing and the party was started with the pity cake being placed in the middle of the table.
I somehow take the situation from my poor hubby just wanting to do something good for himself to an entire rant and rave about me. It's amazing he started dating me, let alone was brave enough to marry me. After this long conversation in which he was talking me off the ledge, telling me I could get a gym membership, too and we'd just take shifts (which, of course, every generous offer he gave me I gave a reason how that just simply wouldn't work), I shut up and turned into placid Tammy. Apparently, being confined to the house has worn on me. Being a new mom is tough, I will concede (although you know I wouldn't want to admit that in public), but being trapped in the house is a whole other battle. I've gone through that before and didn't want it to happen again. While I do need an outlet (obviously), I need to realize that other people exist. They have their own needs and wants. I am not the only person whose life has changed. The boys have a father, and he needs his time as well. There is this wonderful word which I generally forget about ... I think it's compromise. I need to compromise on my plan. The militant dictator needs to sit down and the sweet, democratic Tammy needs to rise.
Now, my congress just needs to vote on my policies.