I’m not sure why it comes to mind, but for some reason today it just seemed to fit.  A good amount of conversation today was devoted to Sesame Street.  Yes, Sesame Street.  Why it’s good, how long it’s been around, where I can stream it, when it’s on, if it would be good for Ijah or not all sorts of Sesame Street miscellanea.  Now I can be a rational person.  I’m rational most of the time.  But today, the mention of Ijah probably benefiting from watching Sesame Street sent me into an internal emotional freak out of “Clue” like proportions.

What, is he behind?  Do people think he’s stupid?  Am I doing a bad job?  Why can’t I teach him things?  Why don’t other people think I’m teaching him things?  Will it help him talk?  Am I not doing enough educational things? What if he doesn’t like it?  What if it’s bad for him?  Have I been wronging him in some way by not letting him watch programs like these?  Why do people think that a show would be better for him than what I do with him?

Basically an insert your most ridiculous reaction to Sesame Street here sort of scenario.  It was really absurd that it was bothering me.  I KNOW that half of the reason anyone would even recommend it was to maybe try to get ME a break from having to feel like I am constantly interacting.

I needed a good smack.  An “I had to stop her from being an idiot!” sort of smack.

Luckily I took care of it myself.  This is it, my smack in text.

Sesame Street can be fun for kids, and educational, and introducing Elijah to it has no bearing on my ability to be a good Mom to him, or raise an intelligent child.  He will not turn into a TV zombie because of an hour of Sesame Street.

*Smack*

I decided I should try to get out of the house for a bit.  So I got out of my sweats and started to get dressed.  I should try to wear something cute I think to myself.  I’m sure that would be good for me, I always feel better when I take a bit of time to look presentable.  So, jeans, sweater, mascara, and ahh…thats what I should wear…boots.  The greenish black rock start boots that Sherman wanted to buy for me but I got to them first.  The boots that I treated myself to when I shouldn’t have, the ones we saw on one of our walks when I still lived in St. Paul.  Great memories those boots have…I sit down to slip them one…

Houston…we have a problem…

How is it possible that my foot doesn’t fit in here…all my other shoes fit…(well they are a bit snug)…there is NO WAY I have gained weight in my feet!  This can’t be happening!  Foot swelling means they get a little bigger not that your favorite shoes don’t fit!  I have tubs of super awesome shoes!  Boots are part of me!  Half of my marriage is based on boots!  Is this a sick joke!?  Oh my god…what if they don’t get back to normal size?!  These are irreplacable!  And the cute heels I have…and the lace up boots..and… and… sniff… this cant be my feet, it just cant be!..It must be the uber sexy tube socks.

Sock switch…a little effort…and floomp.  Oh thank god.  I’m not sure what would have happened had I not been able to put those boots on.  I have ideas though.

Somehow the irrational part of my mind has been compiling all of the necessary technology to develop emotional weapons of mass destruction.  For years it had slipped by, a strange fear here, self consciousness there, silly worries, body image issues, bad movies…it wasn’t until the massive amounts of hormones being processed that the worries began.  The rational side of my brain started to get worried.  What does he need all of that for it asks…not buying the “oh we are just exploring new ways to create energy” explanation.  Before you know it the irrational part is doing tests of explosive crying fits at early hours, the research into how to blow things way out of proportion is paying off in ways they hadn’t even imagined, and the “perfect storm” scenario of crummy work day, clothes that don’t fit, gloomy weather, and hormones was coming together nicely.  The right catalyst and everything would be going as planned! Mwah ha ha.…

My rational side sits and waits it out.  A virtual missile defense system.  Catching all it can so that it can avoid the irrational sides fall out.  Nothing can be done about the hormones but suggestions of thinner socks saves the day…for now.

So with the third trimester upon us I feel that a war of sorts is being waged.  The outcome we know already.  We get a baby, and that is worth the battle scars.  In the mean time though we get by day by day, attack and counter attack.  Awaiting that mind over matter scrimmage that will be childbirth.

The crazy emotions shouldn’t still surprise me, they obviously come with the newly growing territory.  Crazy emotions are my morning sickness.  I just can’t decide which is more unsightly…nausea…or the red faced sobbing…