Then we went to a parade on Coronado Island. Then we went to the beach where a nearly-horizontal Charlie pushed a stroller loaded with three children across 1,000 feet of sand while people stopped to stare. And me, being the supportive wife that I am, laughed and took pictures while holding the baby and a beach umbrella (no, I wasn't entirely empty handed).
Then we went out for lunch. Then we came home and baked Henry's birthday cake and prepared for a party with friends. Then we went to a party with friends at a local park where there was a lot of eating and drinking and merriment and parachuters that held American flags while they fell from the sky.
There were lots of fireworks. And there were lots of children who stayed up four hours past their bedtime chasing beach balls through pitch black fields with a plastic bat. We had an awesome day. And no surprise, the kids slept in until 9:00 AM on Sunday. Which before children, really was no big deal. But post-children, is the equivalent of sleeping in until 2:00 PM.
Now, for the four men that read my blog, please look away.
There's nothing more here for you to read.
Ladies, as I've mentioned, I haven't yet weaned Henry.
I'll write more about that later, but for the purpose of this post, I think it's just important to note that I am a nursing mother. And up until a few months ago, I had been reaping one of the "monthly benefits" that many breastfeeding mothers enjoy.
But once I stopped reaping that particular benefit, I gradually noticed a change in my demeanor.
For approximately 24 days out of the month, I was happy and had an optimism about life. But for three or four days, leading up to the commencement of the event, I would dissolve in to something that was unrecognizable.
I would become weepy, irrational, overly reflective, and distressed to the point of panic.
It made no sense to me.
This had never happened before.
What was going on?
Although this might come as a shock, I had never once considered that my behavior was in any way related to hormonal fluctuations. I have always thought that women who attributed their crabbiness, food cravings and dermatological variances to "the time of the month" were full of bologna.
My general opinion was that PMS had morphed in to the biggest "Why-I-Can-Act-Like-A-Psycho-And-Get-Away-With-It" scape goat, ever.
But recently, because I couldn't understand what was happening with my own self, I started jotting some notes in my calendar. And today, sweet beejezhus, I see a definitive trend.
HELP! I AM FALLING OFF THE BALANCE BEAM OF LIFE!
And this post.
And this post.
And this post?
And this one!
There's a pattern. I am one of those women. And until I can get this resolved, either through acupuncture, meditation, weaning, diet, or perhaps a three-day medically induced coma ... I plan to take a break from blogging about my life for a few days each month. Maybe I'll just post pictures and tips on how to
I'm hopeful that someone out there is thanking me for this post.
So, you're very welcome.
Now please send over some hot fudge.