Scott was away this weekend drinking copious amounts of froo-froo beer and playing golf with his buddies over in Victoria. Me? Well I spent the weekend running errands like buying a crib, matching paint swatches with the furniture we have yet to receive, buying maternity clothing that is suitable for fall/winter and shoes that will fit the snausages I used to call feet. It didn't quite fit the "lolling around eating junk food and watching chick flicks" weekend that I had originally planned, but them's the breaks.
Other than missing Scott, my main problem this weekend was exhaustion and insomnia. Although I was running my ass off all day, every day, I was too discombobulated by Scott's absence to actually sleep so I was up waaaay past my bedtime on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights.
My poor cats were also apparently suffering a bit of anxiety with Scott gone. Essentially, when I was home, I had 2 cats glommed on to me like Velcro OR 2 very whiny cats trying to figure out where I was so they could re-glom. Most times, this would be heaven for me but as the weekend progressed I was getting more and more tired which translated into a frightening dip in my tolerance. I still loved the cuddling but the whining? Not so much.
6:30 AM Sunday morning. Neelix decided it is time for me to wake up so I could a) pet him until he melted into a puddle of cat slobber and then b) feed him. We spent the next hour engaged in an epic battle of wills that ended in me screaming "SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUUUUUUUUUP!". Not very mature, I know, but it felt remarkably satisfying at the time.
Usually, that's where things would stop because Neelix is no dummy...he knows if I'm shrilling obscenities at him, it is time to be quiet for a little while but this time my tirade ended up affecting someone other than just him. Poor Bug had apparently been happily snoozing away because when I yelled at Neelix my stomach convulsed and then she began a series of painful internal gymnastics I'm sure were intended to be the fetal equivalent to a stern talking to.
I felt awful, first for scaring her and then for yelling at my cat so I immediately got up, fed the cats and petted Neelix while he happily chowed down and then shlumped back up to bed where I spent the next 45 minutes talking softly to Bug and reading her a couple of bedtime stories as an apology.
The moral of this story? I now definitely have to watch how I express myself because I don't want to upset my little passenger. Don't expect me to turn into Mother Goose or anything but now when I tell people off, I'll do it using my best dulce de leche voice on low volume. That way, people will have to lean in to hear me sweetly tell them where to go and what to do to themselves along the way.