So I still breastfeed Pickle. And for some reason... that nobody knows, nor cares about... every once in a while, for a few months, it hurts like buggery. That sentence does not do justice to the agony. I have been split from gizzards to gills by clever surgeons numerous times, and this boob pain outclasses that easily. FARK, it hurts. Really hurts.
So I go to bed late because I'm making stupid, hippy, sugar-free banana muffins for my pals at the park... and my boob hurts and La got home late from a conference and I needed to sulk at him for making me spend alone time with my own children all day... breakfast and bed time!...
And, of course, I have this sore boob... it didn't like being put to bed and then Pickle woke up this morning AT FIVE and I thought.... "Bah, why not give it a bit of a go and whack her on for a few minutes just to keep the supply up?" Jesus, Mary and Joseph. FIVE hours later the pain had somewhat settled. It's now almost 10 hours later and I can bear to do my bra up. I tell ya, breastfeeding is an extreme sport... not for the faint of heart or the hypo of chondria.
So down late last night, up early this morning and I turn up to the park to hang with my homies... and every. single. sentence. that comes from my mouth is obnoxious, thoughtless and annoying. My park homies are good people so I leave feeling a little confused. How did such a lovely day, that we all look forward to, end up so crappy?
I came home andm like a prune, I stewed, and stewed and stewed... put Pickle to bed and yelled at Pud... and realised.. I'm just tired. I'm not naturally a very nice person... but seriously, I'm not usually as bad as I was today. I feel like a farking idiot. Took me over 40 years to work out that I can get grumpy when I'm tired. This is insane. Of course I should have realised this about 35 years ago...I think I just thought it was an excuse for bad behaviour. And it is really. But I'm tired.
A friend of mine who does drug and alcohol counseling also helped me realise, about 10 years ago, that I'm grumpy when I'm hungry. Actually, now that I think of it... I'm always bloody grumpy.
And now the Pickle has awoken and I haven't finished my fabulous post.... crappity, crap, crap, crap. I shall have to sign of leaving you hanging for more of my scintillating prose...