Foot In Mouth Disease

While I was pregnant with Peter, I was angry. Often. That was my go-to emotion. Usually it takes a lot to get me all riled-up, but wow, I remember being mad at the drop of a hat. I worried that this was a bad sign for the little baby I was growing, but for the most part, he's not a very angry kid.

With Cooper, I was weepy. Soooo weepy. I'm kind of a crier anyway (at things like commercials and stories I read in the Ensign) but during that forty weeks, I was extremely prone to tears. Again, I was concerned that my little boy would be excessively emotional. Actually, Peter's more of the crier and Cooper has more of a temper.

This time around, I have what I like to call "Foot in Mouth Disease." My personal filter is broken. I am usually amazingly tactful, but now? Words come out of my mouth that have no business even being in my brain. I've made people cry, including myself. My internal monologue has grown frighteningly public, and it's not a good thing.

I can't remember how long it took me to get back to normal after each of the boys, but I don't recall any crying binges after Cooper was born or any fits of anger after Peter joined us. Hopefully that means that I only have a few more weeks of saying whatever pops into my brain.

You know, I have held back a few times, but it's taken all of my large reserve of willpower to do so.

To anyone that has crossed my path in the last almost thirty-eight weeks, my deepest apologies. I hope to soon be back to the world of the tactful.