On Sunday, the young George marriage endured the moodiest Kathleen ever recorded, and I'm happy to report that Hunter survived and decided not to leave me.
I'm blaming the pregnancy, because the past week or so has been noteworthy for my monstrous appetite and significant abdominal stretching, leading me to believe I had a growth spurt and an accompanying hormonal surge. Here are the outlines of the emotional tsunami:
* A sermon during which one of our pastors said she "didn't know what to make of the $700 billion headline" and therefore advised our congregation to just have faith that God will provide and essentially to throw up our hands trying to understand the country's financial debacle. As a person who has worked for two weeks trying to explain the country's financial debacle so people might be better informed citizens and possibly vote in a meaningful way, this irritated me. A lot. Hunter and I had a great conversation in the car on the way home about this and it still bothered me all day.
* A misunderstanding with a friend that put me in a huge funk. Hunter encouraged me to see my friend's point of view, and he was right, and I still couldn't shake the mood.
* Having to work a trade-off shift and read no fewer than two stories containing the same themes echoing our pastor's sermon.
* Hearing that my family had a great dinner with neighbors and then received a baby gift while I worked a night shift, again. I then cried on the phone as Hunter was utterly perplexed as he tried valiently to cheer me despite the hopelessness of that cause.
Thank goodness I'm only this way once or twice a year. Right, Hunter?
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