Five days until Christmas. Are you panicking yet? I was... but then I realized that I've got better things to do with that energy. The past couple of days have not been good ones for me; overwhelmed, overstressed, exhausted, unable to let go of anything at all. It's a wonder that my Boy hasn't demanded a six-pack and some quiet hiding time alone with his laptop and computer games off in the closet. Some closet. Somewhere. Far away from the insane one. I've gone from hopeful to a nearly weeping wreck of a woman about fifty times in just the last twenty four hours. This morning he comes into the bedroom as I was getting dressed and just stood quietly at the end of the bed with a loving and patient and determinedly neutral pleasant Look as he asked how I was feeling so far.

Do I appreciate this? Yes. Do I fully comprehend that he's doing the best he knows how to do, based on his extensive knowledge of me and my ways? Yes. Have I been batshit crazy by far this past week, and will it happen again and again in the next year or two? Oh hell yes.

Tonight I'm going to get him some beer on my way to pick him up from work. He's completely earned it, and I know that this situation with Robbie is getting to him too. The difference is that while I'm staring at my breasts willing them to produce milk he's watching me go from banshee to reasonable and back again while staring at my breasts willing them to produce milk, and he's waiting patiently for his wife to re-emerge from this she-demon. It's just the getting there that sucks. The journey's goal is worth it.