Up? Down? All around?

Our weekend started out a little tumultuous. I texted TH from acupuncture Friday night and asked him to meet me after the appointment. (Erika gave me a place to get barley tea, so I thought TH and I should go on the adventure together to the Japanese Market.) When I finished the appt, I called him, and he was at the giant nearby bookstore. TH isn't a big bookstore fan, but lately he's been on the prowl for some techie books for work. (foreshadowing) So, off I head to the store to meet him.

I walk in the store, and TH is bounding toward me. I am about to turn around for us to walk out (he hasn't had much luck in his book quest), when he thrusts a book at me. It's a baby sign language book, with a pudgy, pink skinned, adorable baby on the front. (For weeks, he's been talking about how cool this baby sign language concept is and how our baby will learn it.) My heart starts beating faster. I start to panic. Here's what goes through my mind:

-WHAT is THAT?!
-Is it coming home with us? Oh, no! It's bad luck! What if he wants to keep it in the house?!
-But wait...awwwwwww. He's HOPEful! How sweet, if he's buying it for our baby! Hope!
-What if it's for Nephew? Is it for BIL and SIL to teach Nephew?
-STOP. Ask him who the book is for.

"Um, TH? Who are you buying that for?"
"Nephew."

Let the reeling begin.

He then goes to get in line. I carefully decline, as though the book is contagious and will give me the plague. TH teases me a bit that I won't come keep him company in line. I decline a little more firmly, head to the stationery section, and HIDE.

I try to calm myself down. I send an email to SMT. I try to breathe. And then, he comes back from the line, all ready to go, and tells me, "You're gonna have to learn 'aunt'!"

And because I apparently decided the best way to handle this was to be a bitch, I strike with, "I dont' HAVE to learn ANYthing."

We run the errand. We barely speak. I ask if the book is for him to teach Nephew or for SIL to teach Nephew. Somehow, neither answer was better than the other, but I just neeed to know. I try a few times to say something more, but I don't want the tears to fall. We're both angry and hurt. It's just bad, bad, bad. We come home, I fall asleep, and when morning comes, we're still not back to ourselves.

We then proceed to have quite the uproar. Tears, yelling, talking to the ceiling, confessions of how hard this is, what it's like to ride the rollercoaster when you can't even anticipate what will upset you and what won't. TH opens up and shares his feelings, which cut to the bone. It's as though all of my peace and quiet and happiness evaporated right in front of my face.

The most telling moment of the ordeal is when I finally confess to TH (and myself) that there are real places and things I cannot, under any circumstance handle: the baby section at Target, the pregnancy book section at a bookstore, any pregnancy books in the apt, and Babies R Us. These are avoid at all cost items and places. There's no trying to act tough, as though I can handle these things. Avoid, avoid, avoid. He inadvertantly flung one of these things at me, with the most genuine of heart, thinking I could handle it, as I've done so very well lately. And really, who could blame him? I've been floating on a cloud of cotton balls for days now. Has it even been a few weeks? I'm not even sure.

The kicker? By Saturday afternoon, I was back on my cloud of fluff. I played with Nephew Saturday night, and I volunteered for another visit on Sunday evening. I tickled, I patty caked, and I didn't break in two when TH held him. It was like Friday night and the ugliness of Saturday morning never happened.

I don't know where it comes from, who controls it, or where it sometimes goes, but The Calm back. Thank God. I certainly didn't miss the chaos of those 18 hours.