One more crazy symptom of crazy: This one has happened to me in the past when I have been unwell. I’ve become convinced I’m going to be the victim of a violent crime. When Z has to be out of the house at night I am terrified. When a stranger rings the bell wanting to shovel our walk for pay I am scared to open the door. When the cats knocked over the flower vase the other night I was sure someone was breaking in to kill us. I actually thought I wouldn’t resist as long as they didn’t touch T. I know it is another manifestation of the fear that rules my life, and I know it becomes manageable when my illness is under control. I can’t wait for that day to come.
So, getting back on track, this post is really about booze. I’m not a big drinker. I don’t have anything against drinking, I just happen to suck at it. I get drunk fast. Like super fast. Then I throw up. Then I go to sleep. Then I’m hung over. The fun lasts for less than an hour and the repercussions make it not worth it. Drinking is one of Z’s favorite activities in the world. While he wishes I drank more and I wish he drank less it really isn’t a big deal for us. Ah, another example of a drinker and non drinking living in peace and harmony…
The problem is when I am pregnant I develop a secret super power. My sense of smell becomes so acute concerning booze that I smell it coming out of the pores of people near me. If you drank last night I know. I hate this super power. It makes me feel like I’m seriously invading people’s privacy. A couple of days ago at T’s doctor’s office I knew his Doc drank the night before the minute she walked in the door. And I felt guilty. It is none of my business if she wants to have a drink at night. I certainly don’t think it affects her work in any way. I think part of the reason it makes me feel so guilty is because the smell completely grosses me out. So I feel like I’m judging, even though I find nothing wrong with having a couple of drinks.
When I’m pregnant there are a bunch of smells I’m not nuts about. Raw meat sends me over the edge, changing poop diapers literally makes me gag, garbage bins do the same. But all that stuff is pretty darn standard. I don’t know if the alcohol smell thing is a common symptom of early pregnancy. I tend to be over sensitive when I’m not pregnant, both to the physical and emotional, concerning myself and others. Z thinks there is a correlation between my non pregnant sensitivity and the alcohol hyper sensitivity that develops during pregnancy. I’m not convinced. I’d wager it is a quirk that lots of pregnant ladies suffer from. Maybe it is nature’s way of telling pregnant gals to steer clear of the booze for a while. It still makes me feel like a jerky member of the drinking police. I’ll be happy when it goes away in a few months.
These are from when we were at Z’s parent’s house back in December. T loves us to read to him all the time. He hands us a book, crawls into our laps, and says, “More!”
He has recently developed an interest in dolls and stuffed animals. These were in the room he was sleeping in and every morning he’d grab them and give them lots of hugs.