Cry About It

It's no surprise pregnancy has made me incredibly emotional. Between the hormones and my favorite Beyoncé t-shirt stretching to a crop top because of my growing belly, I lose it at just about anything. Matt's stopped asking questions and just goes with it. My #workwife has a code that I've adopted at home. It goes something like: melt into a puddle and sob "I'm just so tired!" I'm generally a pretty emotional person anyways, and it seems this tiny woman inside of me has heightened my crazy.

Here are some things I'm crying about lately:

Lemonade

Unless you live under a rock, Beyoncé released the most emotionally charged album on Saturday night. Complete with artfully directed music videos, I lost my f***ing mind. It took me a full 36 hours to fully digest the insanity of her lady power.

I cried the entire way to the coffee shop I'm sitting in now listening to the album. "I'ma keep running cause a winner don't quit on themselves." Cue pyrotechnics as I scream cry the lyrics on the highway.

If you're wondering, yes, I subscribed to Tidal exclusively to listen to Beyoncé a day early. No, I'm not mad about it.

Target Lady

A few weeks ago, I left the house to go to Target but mostly to avoid the toddler nap time fight I'd been reckoning with for a while. I'm losing my ability to bend over, pick up and wrestle with sweet #gingerbaby, so the flailing, arched back, belly flops on the floor just aren't working for me.

I would have taken my time through the store, but as my hips seized up, I realized I needed to make a quick exit. I chose a checkout counter with a sloth at the cash register. Said sloth proceeded to fill bags with all the heavy things. When I asked Sloth to kindly distribute the heavy things, so I could carry them, I was met with the attitude of a teenager banned from the prom.

Seeing my struggle, a fellow mama with a toddler in tow asked if she could help carry my bags to my car. It was like she could see my soul (or more likely see that I was 6 months pregnant and on the brink of tears) and said, "I see you mama." I thanked her profusely, and by the time I got to my car, sobbed uncontrollably in the parking lot.

Hips

While in a heated debate over eating string cheese on the kitchen rug, my hips seized, and I fell down and couldn't get up. As I sat paralyzed on all fours, #Gingerbaby took the opportunity to take the cheese and run. Having lost both the battle with a toddler and my dignity, I couldn't help but tear up at the situation.

We know we'll hit our deductible this year with all the prenatal expenses, so Matt and I have been discussing a hip replacement for me and a vasectomy for him. Deductibles are like coupons, right?

Toddlers

When the nerve shot cooled down from the above situation, I slowly got up to find the fugitive. I found him when he smacked me square in the face with a plastic golf club. Unable to move swiftly enough, I awkwardly, picked him up under one arm, found my husband in the garage and said I was all done with parenting for the day. I proceeded to sob at the situation in my bedroom, followed by a 45 minute nap. Peace be with you.

Yoga

Since my post about finding time for myself and the newbie, I've been going to yoga once a week. A little quiet and self-reflection has gone a long way, and I'm finding I enjoy being with myself more (I'm assuming other people do as well).

There's a phenomenal prenatal instructor at Blooma in Minneapolis who sings in class, which causes me to immediately ugly cry. It ain't pretty, but I assume everyone is following instructions and keeping their eyes closed. There's magic in someone singing to a group of strong mamas and their strong babies that gets me every time.

...

I was at a wonderful event tonight for MPLS MadWomen where #ladyboss Erinn Farrell spoke some serious truth about being vulnerable in public. She said that allowing ourselves to show emotion in front of others (what could be perceived as a weakness) opens the door for others to share their own vulnerabilities. Perhaps I'm learning this by default, as I currently have zero self-control.