I'm wearing the Mood of the Damned, and it has nothing to do with today being Halloween.
It's here.
No I'm not talking about the baby. I'm referring to that ugly mood that shows up at some point during the last month of pregnancy.
I can't accurately describe what I'm feeling right now. I've been on the giving and receiving side of this mood before, and I know it's a flighty, funky feeling that can be detrimental to the health of anyone too slow to see it coming and take cover.
However, besides calling it a feeling of general p-o'dness, I really don't know what else to tell you.
What I do know is if this baby hasn't been delivered in the near -- and I do mean near -- future, somebody or something is going to have a serious problem. I'm wearing the Mood of the Damned, and it has nothing to do with today being Halloween.
It does, however, have everything to do with the following: My back hurts, I'm carrying 22 extra pounds, I can't sleep and I've worn a path to the ladies' restroom at work. I'm also sick and tired of people touching me or asking "Haven't you had that baby yet?"
Well, if the answer was yes, then you'd be making a nasty comment about my post-pregnancy appearance, now wouldn't you? (Insert a big sigh with a prolonged roll of the eyes.)
I know there are mothers who are reading this column and nodding their heads sagely. They, too, have experienced the Mood of the Damned and know I am helpless to stop it. I fuss and cry and scream and brood for seconds, minutes, hours at a time, all alternated with bouts of Pollyanna-ish displays of affection.
If you haven't felt sorry for Patrick and Jerry yet, you should start to now. God bless them, they've had to live with Good Witch-Bad Witch all week without ever knowing who was going to show up at any given moment.
One minute I want to cuddle, the next I don't want to be touched. One minute I want them in the same room with me, the next I couldn't care if they were in the next galaxy ... as long as I knew their exact coordinates.
This pregnancy thing is delicate territory. My hormone levels change more than Jerry Buck changes clothes, and he's in the When I Want To potty-training stage.
It's sort of funny-weird that this mood struck just in time for Halloween. I'm not giving out candy tonight because I'm afraid somebody's parents would come after me for upsetting their child, or else I'll upset my little Blue (Jerry's going as the main character from Blue's Clues) by eating all of his candy before he can even see what he received.
Instead, I'm going to a nice, safe place where nobody wears scary costumes and all I need to bring is a canned good. I'm hoping all the cheerfulness will counteract the Mood of the Damned and make me a nicer person to be around.
In the meantime, all I can tell my family and friends is beware. I may be acting like the Thriller tonight, but I promise to return to my charming self as soon as I've completed labor, recovered from delivery, survived post-partum depression and recuperated from the sleepless nights of Baby Buck's first months of infancy.
I give it a year, tops.
~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.
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