Sunday, March 6, 2011

Noah is a saint.

Mostly, anyway. Last night I was making tuna melts for supper (om nom nom - especially with pickles) and, alas, I dropped one while transferring it from pan to plate. For whatever reason, this started off the crying. Not just sniffling, but actual chest-heaving, hyperventilating sobs with tears and mucus flying everywhere.

The poor man, not realizing that this was just hormones (the entire time I was crying I was wondering what the hell I was crying about, since I didn't feel even remotely upset), spent the next twenty minutes trying to reassure me that the poor disassembled tuna melt would probably still taste good, etc., until the hysterics finally decreased to a point where I was able to speak.

For his sake, I hope the hormones go back to their normal levels once James makes his appearance.

4 comments:

Rosa said...

Hormones suck don't they? Poor Noah, he was always a good shoulder when I needed one, thanks for that son. For quite awhile afterwards your hormones will be whacked too. I didn't get ppd I felt happier and content so I hope you go that way too!

Rhianna H said...

At least your hormones didn't make you go with a pair of scissors in hand, corner him, and threaten castration for no apparent reason...oh, pubescent female hormones, what you have done to scar my brother!

Rosa said...

Yeah, he had plenty of practice dealing with wayward raging hormones and crazy behaviors. He kept candy in his drawer to offer at opportune times. Ask him if he wants any yogurt.

TeamOSM said...

They do. It takes a minute...but they do. Then you're all, "Man...remember when I was a crazy person, honey? Thank you for not punching me in the face on a daily basis. I love you so hard for that." ;o)