I've developed a post-pregnancy hormonal type affliction. Before you gasp in shock, it is not cleaning. It is not nesting. It is nothing useful or responsible or remotely related to parenting.
It is to do with water works. And not of the fluid retention variety - although I also have that in spades.
|It's not you, it's me.|
And it's also your baby.
I've been to weddings and cried my eyes out, giving the mother of the bride a run for her money on the emotional outpouring front. Only, I don't know the bride. Or the groom. In fact, I've never even met them, all I know about them is that Hubby went to grade school with one or both of them.
At my own wedding, I recall saying something along the lines of "Do we really have to do a service? Can't we just sign the certificate and go straight to the party?". Just so you understand how totally removed I am from the whole emotional blah blah of weddings. I go for the free booze.
I've seen people win a car on TV and sobbed my little sleep deprived, dark-circle rimmed eyes out. For no reason other than how lovely it is that someone won a shiny new car. Even though it's never bloody me.
|Alloy wheels?! Bonus seat covers?! One year's Compulsory Third Party Insurance?!|
There's not enough tissues in the world!
I've watched stupid news 'filler' stories - the kind they only air when it's been a slow news day - where a panda has licked a tiger cub at the zoo (or something equally nauseatingly cutesy), and balled like a baby. Giant soppy wet tears raining down.
The fact that I take the piss out of these events, I don't have a particular affection for fluffy animals, and my inner voice hopes the coveted car some bastard won instead of me only comes in some god awful colour, and the electric windows malfunction soon after they take possession - just goes to prove I'm not an overly soppy, touchy-feely type.
Unfortunately, post baby, my body did not get the Memo on that one.
Two days in a row I have run into a Mother at school who has a newborn. She's lovely. I am a massive fan of her own Miss5, who is a happy, friendly, carefree pocket rocket. Now she has to test my fear-factor over my tear-factor by adding a newborn. A teeny, tiny, fragile little mini pocket rocket.
It's brutal. I smile at her, exchange pleasantries, and then - no matter how much I tell myself "Don't look down...don't look down...don't look down" - I look down. At the baby.
And then the tears flow. This is a cute baby, undoubtedly. On my "I just want to squeeze the crap outta you" cuteness scale, he is a 10. But you'd think it was a bottle of extremely expensive Vodka encrusted in princess cut diamonds nestled in that blanket, judging by my reaction.
I'm not clucky. I wouldn't swap places with the lady holding a newborn for all the tea in China. Not for all the money in the world (ok maybe for that). Not for all the vodka in the bottle shop (would most definitely consider it for that). I do not want any more babies. I've moved on to counting down until mine are old enough to clean for pocket money, be my designated driver, and contribute rent money.
These body snatching tears have only taken over since I had Miss5. I blame pregnancy for them, as much as for my ever-present Mummy Tummy.
First there's all the pregnancy hormones that can leave you a bit emotional. And I know I cried my fair share of tears during the inital sleep-deprived weeks of infancy. But, considering the twins are now a little over 2 years old, I have to ask myself -
Will this ever stop?
Am I the only moron who has this totally involuntary emotional response to random things?
Will I ever be able to wear mascara again without fear of it turning me into The Joker at the first sign of small fluffy animals conjugating?
Is there a support group or 12 step program? Or at the very least, a sanitary pad equivalent for under my eyes?
Will I ever be able to watch a game show on TV without the risk of flooding the lounge room when someone wins?
|Adult crybaby : The only person capable of pulling it off with credibility and sex appeal. Besides me|